Borders to be Crossed
by nelliesbones
Summary: Three years of sexual tension, and Angela Montenegro doesn't want to watch it anymore. What happens when Booth and Brennan are forced to go on a trip together? A sentimental European journey... As always: spoilerfree, warmhearted and M for a reason.
1. Washington DC

_A l__ittle idea I had a while ago. Even though I can't promise you to update as regularly as usual, I will definitely finish it at some point. I have no idea how exactly the story will unfold, so if there is anything particular you'd love to read, feel free to suggest._

Borders to be Crossed

I. Washington D.C.

„Three years, I cannot stand it anymore!"

Jack Hodgins smiled softly, as he watched his beautiful girlfriend pacing her office. Frustration was palpable in every twist of her knees, every turn on her heels.

"Calm down, Angie, it isn't as if Booth and Dr. B. quarreling about something is new."

Spinning around, the distraught artist faced the red-haired man sitting on her desk.

"I know, Jack. But did you see it? They were practically getting all over each other. About a burger. _A freaking burger_! Well," she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, thinking about Brennan's furiously sparkling eyes and Booth's tensed jaw, "without actually getting all over each other, of course."

"Yes, but it's their way of communication. And even though it drives you, me and everyone else around crazy, they connect to each other on that level."

"Yeah, but there are several other levels they _should_ connect on."

Drawing Angela between his knees, Hodgins let his palms roam over her back in soothing caresses. Her head fell onto his shoulder.

"It's not very mature, but I want to lock them somewhere and throw they key away. I've never seen two people so hot for each other."

"Never?" he smirked. "Not even the one time when we did it in front of your mirror?"

Finally, her lips curved into a knowing smile.

"Okay, maybe one time. But, seriously, those two 'we're just partners᾽ are radiating so much sexual tension that even I can't keep up with that. Whom am I kidding, I don't want to. I love resolving my tension."

She leaned in for a kiss, and Hodgins smiled at his woman lovingly.

"Fine, I get that you're upset. But... how much are you willing to sacrifice?"

Angela wriggled her eyebrows.

"Sacrifice? What goes on in that gorgeous head of yours?"

"Hmm, I'm thinking about locking them somewhere, just in a bigger picture."

"A bigger picture?"

"This sentimental journey through Europe we are planning? What about sending them instead?"

"You're willing to give up our trip?"

"Not 'give up᾽. Just reschedule."

Images of Venice, Paris and Lisbon crossed Angela's mind, but they were quickly pushed away by the vivid picture of her best friend and one very sexy FBI agent burning for each other.

"That is indeed a sacrifice. You're really sure you wanna do this?"

"I wanna make you happy. Even the crazy parts of you. Besides, I can probably write it off against tax. It almost qualifies as a charity project," he joked.

"Aw, that's so sweet. Two weeks together in romantic cities with romantic little hotels could definitely turn the tables for the two of them."

'Or make them kill each other,᾽ Hodgins thought, but he found it wise to keep his mouth shut.

"We can still do our trip next month, Angie. Those cities are unlikely to run away or drown in the water. Except for Venice, of course."

Angela smiled wickedly.

"It's settled, then. Now all we need is a scenario that will make it impossible for Booth and Brenn to back out."

"Knowing you, that won't be a problem, will it?"

"Jack Hodgins, how good are you at acting?"

-BONES-

Sitting in her office, Temperance Brennan could hear every word, as the yelling started. She frowned, unsure if this was one of the times where her best friend might appreciate her intervention. Handling situations like this wasn't Brennan's strongest suit. The furrow between her eyebrows deepened, as she understood what the fight was about. Angela feeling suffocated in a relationship? That was not too hard to believe. Hodgins' mean words about her sexual behavior were, though, and Brennan abandoned her seat, slowly walking towards the door.

Half of the Jeffersonian squints had gathered in the hallway, eavesdropping in open-mouthed shock. The loud "bang" of Angela's door startled all of them, and they quickly jumped apart, as a boiling Dr. Hodgins stormed out of her office, fists clenching at his sides.

Exchanging a puzzled look with Cam, Brennan set herself in motion, knocking at the artist's door gently.

"Ange?"

"Come in."

Brennan's chest tightened, and a rush of helplessness filled her, as she cast a glance at her teary-eyed best friend.

"What has happened?"

Bursting out in sobs, Angela threw herself into Brennan's arms, feeling almost guilty at the other one's sincere concern.

'But as they say, all is fair in love and war,᾽ Angela mused.

This was love _and_ war.

"We broke up."

"I heard that much. Why? Everything was going pretty well, wasn't it?"

"Apparently not good enough. I... I don't want to talk about it right now."

Brennan rubbed her best friend's back, placing a clumsy kiss on her hair. Feeling way beyond her comfort zone, she searched for the right thing to say.

"What can I do for you?"

Angela was very proud of the faked tears which were running down her cheeks, as she lifted her head.

"Get drunk with me tonight. Please?"

"Although I'm convinced that alcohol cannot be a solution, I'll do it if that is what you want."

Nodding vehemently, Angela stated,

"I want it. Please, Brenn, make me forget."

"Of course. Founding Fathers at seven?"

Angela gave Brennan a watery smile.

"Thank you, Sweetie."

Relieved that she had been able to manoeuver the potential minefield, Brennan managed a reassuring nod.

"That's what best friends are for, right?"

'Oh, dear, you have no idea,᾽ Angela thought, as she watched Brennan's retreating form, brushing the dishonest tears away.

The ring tone of her cell interrupted her musings.

"I love you. I have absolutely not broken up with you. You get that, right?"

Angela smiled at Hodgins' tensed voice.

"I get that. But you did a pretty good job breaking up with me. She bought it."

"Hell, Angie, I think everybody did. You know you got the easy end, right? Putting on a show in front of Booth will be harder."

"I have faith in you, Jack. Meet us accidentally at the Founding Fathers around eight?"

"Sounds like a plan. Don't get too used to your single life."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm already looking forward to the make-up sex."

Snapping her cell close, Angela smirked. One done, one to go.

-BONES-

"They _what_? No way."

Booth yelled into his phone in utter disbelief. Angela and Hodgins broke up? Yeah, and the sun rose in the West.

"Yes way. Dr. Hodgins seemed to be pretty outraged, maybe you should talk to him, Booth."

"Talk? Bones, we're men. We don't _talk_."

"Fine, then don't talk. But I'm positive that male company could be good for him. He said some pretty rough things to Angela. Booth," Brennan almost pleaded, and he felt his resistance melting away. "I don't know who else to ask. You connect with people in an outstanding. Just like Angela, but that's out of the question at the moment."

"Fine, Bones, I'll try my best."

Ending the call with a sigh, Booth wondered what exactly had happened.

-BONES-

At 8 pm that night, he found himself busy upholding one very wasted entomologist. How could the other one be that drunk already?

Jack Hodgins himself felt nothing but relief when they finally stumbled into the Founding Fathers. He had consumed an appropriate amount of alcohol, but faking a broken heart and severe drunkenness was taking a heavy toll on him.

Entering the cozy bar, Booth cursed as his eyes fell on two brunette women sitting in the corner. One of them seemed to be just as upset as the human burden he was carrying right now. The other one was simply beautiful.

"Hey, mate, we should go. This place is too crowded."

"Duuude, nooo. Want a beer."

Hodgins prepared himself for the roughest part, acting surprised about the encounter with Angela.

"We really should-"

Booth choked on the rest of the sentence because the other man was grabbing his tie.

"There she is."

"I know, man. Let's go."

"Isn't she beautiful," Hodgins whispered heavy-tongued. "I wanna talk to her."

"That's not clever."

Angela chose that moment to "spot" the two men at the entrance, and, unaware of it, Brennan was fighting her partner's battle.

Five minutes later the four of them were sitting around a larger table, Angela and Hodgins staring at each other with red-rimmed eyes, mourning the loss of their relationship. Brennan and Booth exchanged uneasy glances, and both of them missed the gentle nudge Hodgins gave his girlfriend under the table.

Game on.

Angela's hand flew to her mouth in shock.

"Oh my God, I totally forgot our trip."

Hodgins uttered a sigh fraught with meaning.

"Damn, yes. Those lovely places we picked out... Such a shame to forfeit that..."

Booth looked at the other man quizzically.

"Can't you just cancel it?"

Hodgins shook his head.

"Nope."

Angela sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

"All those empty rooms and wonderful cities waiting for us, it breaks my heart..."

Brennan rubbed her friend's shoulder helpfully, thinking about all the times Angela had already mentioned her broken heart tonight, biting her lip not to correct her that the heart was a muscle that can impossibly break.

Hodgins poured some more liquor into four glasses, knowing that the suggestion would sound less suspiciously coming from Angela. After all, she was the emotional one.

Booth grabbed his tumbler, downing it quickly. Hell, this evening was turning into a living nightmare.

Suddenly Angela's face lit up, and she focused her big moist eyes on her best friend.

"Sweetie, you should go on the trip."

Brennan gasped in shock.

"What? Angela, I love you, but no!"

Watching her friend tearing up anew, the anthropologist sighed, reaching for her glass in desperation.

"Brennan, it would mean so much to me. At least all our efforts wouldn't be wasted, then."

"Angela, I'm not going alone on that trip you planned."

The moment she spoke, Booth's foggy mind shrilled in alarm. And he had been right because a second later two pairs of puppy eyes focused on him. Oblivious to the shift in the situation, Brennan tilted her head to swallow the liquor.

"Booth could go with you."

And she chocked, coughing hard.

"What? That's getting more and more ridiculous. Not for all the world Booth would accompany me on a trip."

Angela almost failed hiding a smirk. 'Bingo.᾽

Booth leaned forward on the table.

"Why wouldn't I go on a trip with you, Bones?"

His eyes were glued to her face, and both of them missed the triumphant smile Angela and Hodgins gave each other.

"We argue. We have nothing in common. And you're not spontaneous enough."

Angela and Hodgins leaned back in their respective chairs, knowing that they had won. No way Seeley Booth would not accept a challenge coming from Temperance Brennan.

"So you're the one who wants to act spontaneously? Fine, Bones, let's go on that trip. I'll show you how spontaneous I can be."

Brennan gasped, almost back-pedaling if it weren't for the dangerous darkness in her partner's eyes.

She squared her shoulders.

"Great, it's settled, then. Let's travel Europe together."

To be continued...


	2. Venice

II. Venice

Leaving Venice Marco Polo airport in a water taxi, Booth rubbed his sore eyes. It was only late afternoon, but after nine hours on a plane and with his body still on US time, all he longed for was a bed.

For the hundredth time he wondered how exactly he and his delectable partner could have ended up in Europe. He had recalled the conversation at the Founding Fathers over and over again. Something was foul. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, though. Angela's and Hodgins' misery had seemed to be candid, and besides, why would one give up such an expensive trip?

His eyes fell to the woman standing next to him on the boat. 'She looks tired,' Booth thought, and exhaustion enriched her beauty with vulnerability that touched him somehow. Her hair was fluttering in the wind, the mild October sun caressing her ivory face.

Brushing the unruly curls out of her eyes, Brennan turned to her partner. The shadow of a beard darkened his handsome face, and she wondered if he was comfortable with the current situation. Everything had happened so fast and felt somehow... surreal.

"Are you okay, Booth?"

She saw him wiggling his head.

"Yeah... but this is kind of odd. I mean, Bones, one moment we're comforting Angela and Hodgins, the next one we're on a plane to Venice."

Brennan regarded him calmly.

"I have to admit, your spontaneity surprised me."

"See, that's what I mean. How did we get from our friend's break-up to something that felt like a challenge between you and me?"

"Sometimes Angela's logic is weird and not to understand," Brennan shrugged. "How did you manage to get two weeks off at short notice?"

"Overtime. Plus, I haven't had a real vacation in ages."

"Booth... are you sure you will enjoy two weeks in my company?"

She bit her lower lip, and the subtle display of insecurity didn't go by unnoticed. This woman, his partner, could be the most self-assured, stubborn person on earth, but sometimes he caught glimpses of a different side of her; one that reminded him of the fifteen year old girl waiting for her parents' return.

"You were the one who said we have nothing in common."

Ignoring the strange ache in his chest, he threw her own words back at her.

"I was just stating a fact."

"Anyway, I like you fairly well. If it gets unbearable, I could always tune out and enjoy the view."

Brennan watched her partner open-mouthed, unsure if he had just complimented or insulted her.

"I'm not sure if I want to know what that means."

He chuckled softly. Oh yes, maybe he could have fun with her after all.

Silence settled over them, as the misty silhouette of the old water town manifested on the horizon. Seagulls were circling the air above them, their cries swallowed by the roaring ship motor. The Venetian lagoon was glistening in the pale yellow sunlight.

It was an age-old, breathtaking beauty.

The only thing that could top the majesty of the view was her. Even on the shaky ground of a boat, Temperance Brennan held her body upright with natural elegance. 'She's made for this,᾽ Booth thought, 'not for death and rotten bones.᾽ She blinked against the direct sunlight, and he was mesmerized by her face. Her eyes were as blue as the water of the lagoon and just as deep.

Swallowing hard, Booth wondered for the first time if coming here had been a very bad idea because of completely different reasons. In the Italian air the safe line he had once drawn seemed to be bloody far away.

Oblivious to her partner's thoughts, Brennan was hypnotized by Venice's welcome. Santa Maria della Salute, the magnificent cathedral, appeared out of the haze, the soft curve of the dome greeting them. Dark little dots were riding the silvery surface of the water.

"Booth, did you know that the only color allowed for Venetian gondolas is black?"

"Hmm? No, I didn't know that. I suppose it fits the morbidity of the town."

They watched wordlessly how the little dots got bigger until not only the shapes of the gondolas were visible but the standing silhouettes of their owners as well.

Finally, she broke the silence.

"Imagine living in a city like this. Where the streets are made of water and no cars are heard."

Booth regarded the woman next to him in wonder. It was rare that she let her shields down to show him the soft side he knew she possessed.

"It's beautiful."

"It is."

Suddenly his arm itched with the desire to curl around her, but Booth fought against the irrational impulse, not willing to let sleep deprivation and the romantic surrounding dictate his behavior.

When the water taxi came to a halt at a little pier, he had himself under control again and reached out his hand to her in perfect professionalism. She accepted it thankfully, and soon the two of them were on solid ground again. At least as solid as ground can get in a city built in the water.

"So, where's our hotel? I don't know about you, but resting sounds very tempting right now."

"Yeah, I could take a nap. The place we're staying at should be just around the corner."

Taking her suitcase from her, Booth struggled with the luggage. "Just around the corner" was promising, but a few narrow bridges were in between them and their destination.

Eventually, they found the little but tasteful hotel in a quiet street of Venice's quarter Dorsoduro. The Italian lady behind the counter greeted them in cheerful English, and some signatures later, Brennan opened their door.

Booth ogled the single key in his partner's hand suspiciously, and he only had to cast one glance at their luxury room to know.

"Okay, Bones, this is a very bold try to set us up."

"What? Why?"

"Why? Oh, come on, look around."

Her eyes roamed over the inventory of the room, finally zooming in on the big bed in the middle. Realization dawned on her, but she refused to believe that Angela would go to the lengths of sending her to Europe with Booth just to get the two of them into one bed.

Turning around to face her partner, she stammered.

"What do we do now?"

"Truth? I'm tired. I'm beyond caring. The bed seems to be big enough not to get in each other's way."

Gnawing at her lip, she let her eyes wander from Booth to the bed and back.

"I suppose we can check later if there's another vacant space in this hotel."

"Whatever you want, Bones. And then we can think about a painful way to kill Angela and Hodgins."

Entering the room, Booth slipped out of his shoes and simply crashed on the left side of the bed.

Eyes already shut, he murmured,

"Just a little nap."

Brennan took her time with unpacking her suitcase and changing into soft yoga pants and a sweater. From time to time her eyes fell to the man on the bed, and as a light snore escaped his mouth, a smile played around her lips.

Never before had she watched her partner sleeping. He seemed to be perfectly at peace, his face free of sorrow lines, and she wondered how relaxed she felt around him.

When there was nothing left to do, Brennan lowered herself to the mattress. With a heartfelt yawn she slid under the sheet, snuggling into her pillow with a modest distance to his big frame. Indeed, the bed was big enough.

-BONES-

There is this moment between sleep and wake when dreams are blurring with reality, and everything or nothing is impossible. It can't be measured in time because the laws of time simply don't apply to dreams. In a moment like this, Seeley Booth awoke to a dark room with his face buried in something silky.

Unaware if he was living a vivid dream or dreamlike reality, Booth pressed his nose deeper into the tempting softness, inhaling a scent he would have recognized among a hundred others and more.

Hers.

Fogginess started to vanish, and he registered that the silk was her hair. That he was lying in a bed with Temperance Brennan, his body curled around hers, an arm draped around her slender waist.

He could hear her deep, even breaths, and, eventually, everything came back. Angela and Hodgins. Venice. One bed. Her body.

Booth was pretty sure that waking up would have been quite painful if she had been the first to stir, finding him holding her like that.

Very slowly, not to disturb her, he disentangled himself from his partner, slipping out of the bed. However, he hadn't been careful enough because she meowed like a little kitten, and the adorableness of it hit him with unexpected force.

"Booth?"

"Sh, Temperance, I'm here."

"What time is it?"

"1 am."

"Oh, crap, our circadian rhythm is ruined."

He chuckled softly.

"Maybe we're lucky enough to go back to sleep and awake not too early tomorrow."

"Given the circumstances, I highly doubt that, but I suppose our options are limited at this time of the night. What are you doing?"

"Looking for clothes, then I'll grab a quick shower and change."

She blinked as the light of the ensuite bathroom brightened the darkness and fell back into her pillows. Her back tingled with warmth she couldn't explain. Sighing, she blamed it on his scent lingering in the sheets next to her.

In those honest hours between dusk and dawn, when the air was cold and quiet, it was hard to deny that she felt attracted to Booth. More attracted than would be wise regarding their partnership and the countless arguments they used to have.

Ten minutes later, she heard him coming out of the tiny bathroom, and soon the mattress shifted under his weight.

"Bones, we never really spoke about this trip. We're in Venice for three full days. What do you wanna do?"

"Angela provided me with a lot of travel guides, but I'd suggest we just roam the streets tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me. No fancy museums or palaces you want to visit?"

"Maybe the day after tomorrow, but you don't have to accompany me."

"Huh, you're already tired of my company?"

"No, I'm just saying that you shouldn't feel obliged to stay with me if you want to do something else."

"Ah, humor me. I might enjoy it with you. If you want me to tag along."

"I'd like that very much."

She gave him a smile that he could only guess, and in the safeness of the velvety Venetian night, the two partners found tenderness that hadn't been part of their relationship so far. Maybe it was the fact that they were lying in the same bed, facing each other in the darkness, maybe it was one of the 4.300 miles between here and their usual life, maybe it was the knowledge that they would be walking on uncommon ground for the next two weeks... whatever it was, both of them acknowledged it silently, unsure what it meant. If it had to mean something at all. However, it felt soft, so soft that it cradled them until the even sound of sleep filled the room anew.

-BONES-

Brennan awoke before the first bird had lifted its head. The pale yellow which indicates the rise of the sun hadn't begun to touch the sky, yet, and, blinking against the darkness, the woman tried to banish the daze of sleep.

Next to her, Booth was snoring softly, still lost in dreams, and she had to smile involuntarily. It turned into a silent "oh", though, as he shifted slightly, and his foot invaded her side of the bed. The bold limb made it under her blanket, seeking her warmth, and Brennan went rigid as it touched hers.

Sharing the bed had been practical, but lying in the darkness, fully awake, was different. It felt intimate. Stretching herself thoroughly, Brennan decided that the night was over. The clock on her nightstand said 5 am, and she left the bed to take a shower.

The movement of the mattress found its way into Booth's dreams, and when his eyelids fluttered open, only the tangled sheet next to him gave away his night companion. He heard the rushing of the water, and it felt oddly domestic. His stomach chose that moment to growl, and Booth tried to remember his last meal. Crappy airplane food. Suddenly breakfast sounded like a very good idea.

In the bathroom next to him the sound of the shower had stopped, and a hairdryer could be heard. It was still awfully early, and Booth lolled in the big bed, waiting for her to get ready.

He had shared a bed with Temperance Brennan. Something about this evoked a strange kind of longing deep inside of him, but Booth refused to think about it too hard. After all, it hadn't meant anything, had it?

Ten minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, humming softly.

"Good morning, Bones."

His voice startled her, and she jumped in surprise.

"Hey, you're awake."

"Yeah. I cannot remember the last time I slept that long."

She smiled.

"Me too. The sleeping arrangement was acceptable."

'Acceptable, yeah,' he thought, remembering waking up with her in his arms. She had been so soft, so warm, so her...

"Do you think we will find something to eat this early? I'm quite hungry."

"I could eat as well."

Jumping out of the bed, Booth stretched his stiff limbs, and she watched him out of the corner of her eye. Brennan knew that her partner took great care of his body, but the boxers and shirt he wore right now revealed more of his impressive structure than she was used to see, and suddenly the fact that she had spent the night lying next to him sent shivers through her body.

Fortunately, he didn't notice it, and a moment later he had disappeared into the bathroom. Brennan let go of a sigh, questioning her sanity to go on this trip one more time. To distract herself, she packed a light shoulder bag full of things she might need, and when she closed the zipper, Booth opened the bathroom door again, fully clothed.

It was a rare treat to see him in nothing but faded jeans and a blue shirt, and Brennan noticed that he hadn't bothered to shave. There was something about the way he looked this morning that whispered about lazy days full of sun, and suddenly everything felt real. Being on holiday. With Booth.

"You're ready to go?"

She nodded with a smile, and he opened the door for her, his hand finding its place on the small of her back. As always.

-BONES-

The air tasted tangy, and the darkness of the night had made place for a lighter shade of gray. Mist was soaring out of the ever-present lagoons, and Brennan was glad for the gray cardigan she had pulled over her simple white blouse.

The city was still asleep, but the two of them managed to find an open bakery. Wandering the empty streets with steamy cups of coffee and warm croissants in their hands felt significantly better, and they enjoyed the simple but delicious breakfast.

Then there was a shift in the atmosphere, and both of them could sense the upcoming sunrise. Upon silent agreement, they took a seat on a bench, the purling water only a few feet away, and while the sun unfolded its beauty, the city around them woke up. Somewhere a woman was singing, and the barking of a dog cut into the early morning scenery.

The light changed every minute, from pale yellow to pink and red. It was so beautiful, and when Booth turned his head, he found something even more stunning. Golden freckles seemed to dance on her pale face, her hair free in the wind. As far as he could tell, she didn't wear any make-up, and in the fresh Venetian morning she looked younger than he had ever seen her. Younger even than four years ago, when she had worn the high ponytail which had driven him crazy.

Noticing that he was watching her, Brennan tilted her head to catch his gaze, and something in his dark eyes took her breath away, reminding her that despite everything else, she was just a woman, and he was a man.

"Good morning," he finally said, and his voice was hoarse.

"Good morning," she answered with a smile, brushing a curl out of her eyes.

And in this enchanted moment in a fairytale city in Italy, a woman and a man were looking at each other as if it was the first time. When the sun was fully up, they resumed their walk, diving into the maze of Venice's narrow streets. They were walking side by side, as always, but suddenly something about their steps felt different...

Lunchtime found them in a little restaurant near the Grand Canal, a generous amount of pasta in front him, something green on her plate. Digging into his dish, Booth chewed with relish, and Brennan enjoyed his obvious delight almost as much as her own salad.

Being on holiday with Booth was fun, she decided, and suddenly she was ridiculously glad to discover this city with him. Despite all her travels, Brennan had never been to Venice before, and she appreciated the century-old history that was palpable in every palace, every statue. However, her partner's way of looking at things was as unadulterated as a child's one, and seeing everything through his eyes was... fun. It was light and sun and laughter. It was easiness she wasn't used to, but she realized that she liked it.

It reminded her of trips to Disney World when she was still a little girl, her mouth open in awe, her eyes sparkling; it felt like something dear she had lost a long time ago, and Brennan leaned back in her chair – the sun on her face – to embrace the sensation.

Five hours later Booth could feel every cobblestone he had stepped onto, but a comfortable kind of exhaustion was consuming him. Passing the bench they had been sitting on in the early morning, Booth and Brennan exchanged a glance and crashed on it.

Striping off her shoes, Brennan rubbed her sore feet.

"I believe we were walking in a circle," he stated, casting his partner another glance.

"It only feels like this because there is water everywhere," she answered on a sigh.

"I think I cannot walk anymore."

"I concur."

"What time is it?"

"Our time or Venice time?"

"Venice time is our time now, Booth."

"Either way, it is not late enough to sleep. What do you wanna do with the evening."

Laughing, Brennan pointed at her shoeless feet.

"I don't think I can do that much with it."

"What do you say about buying a bottle of wine plus some bread and going back to the hotel?"

"Sounds lovely. Except for the going part."

Playfully, he nudged her with his shoulder.

"Come on, woman, it should be just around the corner."

"You've been saying that all day long, Booth, but this city has got a lot of corners."

"Okay, since you are so weak, why don't you go ahead while I look for a supermarket?"

"That would be awfully nice."

"Yeah, you can massage my feet later to show your endless gratitude."

Arching an eyebrow, she smirked.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On how good the wine is."

-BONES-

Finding a supermarket turned out to be easier than expected, and Booth was truly glad as he noticed that it wasn't overly far away from their hotel. For the first time in more than twenty-four hours he was alone, and every now and then his head turned on its own volition to look at the empty space next to him.

He had truly enjoyed her company, and somehow the annoying tension that used to boil between them so often hadn't made an appearance, yet. Only a few days ago, she had said that they had nothing in common, but after a day spent with her, the comment felt wrong somehow, ridiculous even.

Lost in thought, Booth entered their hotel, greeting the Italian lady behind the counter. Brennan opened their door on the second knock, and he noticed first thing that she had changed. She wore something that looked like coziness itself, and her curly hair was restrained in a messy ponytail.

"That was quick."

"Just around the corner, like I told you."

"Did you get everything?"

"Wine, bread, cheese, grapes. We should survive."

"Booth, I asked for a second room, but it seems as if the hotel is booked out."

"Oh..."

The sleeping arrangement he had forgotten about came back to his mind. Then he shrugged. After the easiness of the day the prospect of sharing a room with her seemed to be manageable.

"I suppose we will survive that as well. What about you?"

Briefly, the memories of a Tequila-flavored night crossed her mind, but she shooed them away.

"I believe we can cope with it in a professional way. After all, we're only here for three more nights, and for the rest of the trip we just have to look for appropriate arrangements early enough."

Nodding in silent agreement, Booth disappeared into the bathroom, leaving it a quick shower later in comfortable sweatpants and an old shirt. He stopped mid-track, as he saw what she had done.

"Aw, Bones..."

In the middle of their big bed he found a makeshift pick-nick arranged on something that looked like a big scarf. Bread and cheese were there along with the grapes, and she had already poured red wine into two glasses. The room was illuminated by soft candle-light, and the woman who had prepared everything seemed to be very pleased with herself. Turning around, she smiled at him.

"You appreciate?"

"It looks awfully romantic," he teased, and her nose wrinkled in a cute way.

"No, it looks cozy and delicious. Not romantic."

"Either way, I like it. Thanks."

The wine was rich, the cheese creamy, the bread crispy. Conversation was flowing easily, laughter filling the room along with the dancing light of the candles. Every once in a while Booth looked at her and found her more beautiful than she had ever been, and every once in a while Brennan looked at him, thinking that she had never seen him so at ease before.

When the bottle was empty, they opened a second one, neither of them in the mood to let he evening end, both of them ignoring the fact that the setting felt way too intimate for partners, maybe even for friends. After a day full of fresh air and unforgettable impressions, the deep red wine made them lightheaded, but, truth be told, they didn't really care.

Three years of working with each other, knowing each other and bickering with each other had formed a strong bond of trust between Booth and Brennan, and tonight they expanded it just a little bit to set foot on uncommon territory.

Stretching out on his back, Booth placed his glass on his stomach.

"When was the last time you were on vacation?"

Her eyes turned heavenwards, as she sipped her exquisite beverage, pondering his question.

"I'm not sure if I've ever done it," she admitted finally. "At least not like this."

"Like what?"

"Just drifting and discovering. Together with someone else. What about you?"

"The Niagara Falls with Rebecca. We had just found out that she was pregnant, and she had to puke every other minute."

Despite the unpleasant vision a wistful smile played around his lips.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"I was very happy back then. It was before we used to fight about everything and nothing."

"What about us?"

Her question surprised him, and he tilted his head to look up at her.

"What do you mean?"

"We fight a lot."

"We don't fight, we bicker."

All at once, she avoided his gaze and her voice sounded very small.

"Sometimes it feels more like fighting."

Poking her foot with his pinkie, he tried to get her attention.

"Hey, Bones..."

Still, she refused to look at him, so he grazed the sole of her foot with his fingernails. Despite her sudden sobriety she couldn't suppress a giggle, and he smirked.

"Ticklish, huh? Look, Bones, I won't deny that you can drive me up the wall like no one else, but, hey, that's one of the things I like about you the most."

"I know that I can be difficult in a social setting, and I suppose that I wouldn't have been your first choice as a travel companion, but I like being with you very much," she whispered.

Her words burdened his heart with unexpected guilt, and he played with her sock-clad toes absentmindedly.

"Bones... Temperance... You are an amazing woman, a great partner and friend, and I like hanging out with you. I'm sorry if I ever gave you any reason to doubt that. You know that from time to time I feel dumb around you, don't you? And sometimes dumb people say dumb things."

"You aren't dumb, Booth. I'm glad to be your friend," she murmured, finally looking at him.

Releasing her sock, Booth stretched his arms up in the air.

"Guy hug?"

With him lying on his back and her sitting cross-legged, this was easier said than done, but Brennan lowered her upper body until he could wrap her into a clumsy kind of embrace. As soon as their chests touched, even her wine-clouded mind shrilled in alarm.

Guy hug? Alcohol? One bed? Right...

"This is probably a bad idea," she mumbled into his hair, but her nose buried itself even deeper into the crook of his neck, enjoying his all to familiar scent. His hand drew circles over her back, creating pleasant tinglings of warmth.

"Relax, Bones, I promise I will behave myself."

'It's not as if you want to be close to me,᾽ a voice inside of her added, and suddenly the sadness came back.

Freeing herself out of his arms, she got up on unsteady legs.

"It's late. Maybe we should call it a night."

Taken aback by her sudden brusqueness, Booth tried to grab her hand, but she was already out of reach.

"Everything okay, Bones?"

"Of course. What should be wrong?"

-BONES-

When he came out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, she was already curled up under the covers, facing away from his side. For the tenth time Booth replayed their conversation in his mind, searching for the mistake. Or had it been the hug? Had he held her too tight? Too long?

Sliding under the sheets next to her, he blew air over her exposed neck.

"Hey, Bones... Please, tell me what I did to upset you. Sometimes you're awfully hard to read."

"It's nothing, Booth."

"Partners don't lie to each other. I'm sorry for hugging you. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't. And I never doubted that you can behave yourself."

Oh. _Oh!_

Realization dawned on him, and after some moments of silence, he whispered,

"It's not as if I don't like holding you, you know..."

A smile that he couldn't see played around her lips, and suddenly she felt mushy and ridiculous.

"Goodnight Booth," she answered, and he found a trace of softness in her voice that eased him.

"Sweet dreams, Bones."

When her breath evened out, indicating that she had gone to sleep, Booth couldn't help himself to rob just a few inches closer to her. And then some. His arms tightened around her body on its own accord until she was pressed securely against his chest, and he could smell her fresh and feminine scent. She felt so tiny compared to his own size, and his heart ached with the sudden urge to protect her.

How could she even think that he wasn't tempted?

Resting his palm on the soft curve of her belly, he placed a featherlight kiss on the crown of her head before drifting to sleep.

On the other side of the bed, blue eyes flew open in the darkness.

'Oh...᾽

She tilted her head slightly to find a better position, and even in sleep he followed her, his rough cheek maintaining its contact with her nape.

Struggling with the turmoil in her stomach, Brennan placed her own palm over his. He was enveloping her completely, and he had done it on purpose. She didn't knew what to make of this, but she was certain that she had never felt safer than right now.

-BONES-

The next morning – after an awkward but sweet moment of waking up very close to each other – Brennan and Booth had breakfast in a little cafe near their hotel. Sitting at their table next to the canal, they enjoyed the surprisingly mild October sun.

Colored autumn leaves were floating on the emerald depths of the water. It was hard to decide whether the city of Venice was fighting its wet veins or if the water rather caressed the old, pride buildings full of affection born out of century-old repetition. Venice was a beauty, Brennan mused, and Venice was fully aware of it. The arms of the canals were stretched out, lolling in the glistening sun, and – like Narcissus – the city admired its own reflection in the water.

After their breakfast, they spent the better part of the day standing in line in front of the impressive Doge's Palace. Booth distracted himself with watching tourists on the St Mark's Square; Brennan shortened the time with providing her partner with countless facts she knew about the building and its history. He learned more than he had ever desired to know about the Bridge of Sighs and the Piombi, the famous prison Casanova had managed to escape.

"... and the whole place was badly damaged by a fire in 1577 and rebuilt in the original Gothic style. Booth, what are you doing?"

Brennan interrupted her lecture and furrowed her brow, as Booth begun to stare at her forehead in a very odd way.

"I'm trying to measure the size of your brain," he stated dryly, and she blushed.

"Tell me if I bore you," she answered reproachfully.

"You don't exactly 'bore' me. I'm just afraid to fall asleep on you," he added with a cocky grin.

"Okay, I'll remain silent from now on."

Avoiding his gaze, Brennan crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Chuckling, he poked her ribcage.

"Hey, Bones, you wanna tell me more about Casanova?"

Shaking her head, Brennan compressed her lips even further.

"Bones," he tried again, "this was highly educational. Please continue."

This time she didn't even bother to react, and he tapped her chin, lifting her head until she had to look into his brown eyes.

"Are you mad at me? I didn't want to insult you, waiting is just so booooooring, Booooones," he smiled, and she rolled her eyes.

Sometimes he possessed the patience of a child on a school trip.

"Maybe I could make it up to you? Buy you ice cream or something like that?" he asked hopefully, earning an annoyed sigh from her.

"Boooones, at some point you have to talk to me."

"Why," she asked, breaking the silence, and his fingers whispered down her silhouette, tickling her sides until she couldn't have talked if she had wanted.

"Because I can annoy you even more without words," he smiled, hugging her playfully with one arm, as her giggles subsided.

"Booth, you are worse than Parker. Maybe I should tell him about your behavior the next time I see him," she stated in mocked sternness.

"Yeah, well... hey, look, we're next!"

They were next, and, breathing history while entering the old building, Brennan couldn't wash the smile of her face. Somehow his arm stayed around her shoulder.

-BONES-

Those first days set the tone for the rest of their time in Venice. They bickered, they laughed, and in the end of the day, they fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. Neither of them dared to mention their physical closeness, but they hadn't tried to get a second room any longer.

Booth became familiar with the sensation of her hair tickling his nose in the night; Brennan got accustomed to the muscular pillow that was his strong arm. It didn't even feel erotic, but every day both of them awoke with a strange feeling of fuzziness, and every morning when he opened his eyes, her smile was the first thing he saw. It felt... warm somehow, and as fragile as their new-found intimacy was, it surrounded them just like the ever-present water of Venice's blue-green lagoons.

Every once in a while his gaze lingered on her, causing strange tinglings in her stomach; every once in a while she flashed a smile, and his breath faltered.

When they left Venice on the fourth morning, except for their suitcases and a few souvenirs they took something else along; something that couldn't be packed or folded, something that was visible only in their smiles.

-BONES-

Meanwhile in D.C...

"Do you think they are okay?"

Eating lunch on a bench outside of the Jeffersonian, Angela cast a glance at her boyfriend. Hodgins took a healthy bite of his sandwich and wiggled his head.

"They haven't called yet, so they have either killed each other or they are having a great time. With those two, sometimes the difference is hard to tell."

"Do you think they've already figured it out?"

"Hmm. Dr. Brennan? I don't know. Booth? Oh, yeah."

"How mad do you think they are?"

"It depends on the outcome, I'd say. Anyways, I guess we should take a leave of absence as soon as they're back. Just to be on the safe side."

"I knew it!"

The female voice coming from behind startled the couple, and both of them flung around their heads, spotting Dr. Saroyan.

"Busted," Hodgins whispered.

"You didn't really break up, did you?"

An entomologist and an artist shook their heads guiltily.

"You faked all that to send them to Europe together?"

Two nods.

"Are you mad?" Angela finally asked, and her boss took a seat next to them, a devilish smile on her face.

"Hell, no, I could kiss you. Tell me everything!"

A mutual sigh was released into the mild October air, and while the three of them discussed the whole plan, somewhere far away in Italy, Booth and Brennan waited for a plane to Paris.

To be continued...

_Okay, this is the first time that I had to struggle with a story. I didn't see that coming. However, I hope that you enjoyed it nonetheless. Stay tuned for Paris._


	3. Paris

III. Paris

On the plane to Paris, Booth and Brennan met their old friend misunderstanding. The flight hadn't been long at all, only ninety minutes, but every one of them had been jinxed. Maybe it was something she had said, maybe it was something he had done – neither of them really knew how it had happened or what exactly had happened.

His nasty comment about the Louvre being an old chamber of dust?

Her snarky reply about the capability to appreciate fine arts?

Anyways, when they touched Parisian ground, the silence between the two partners was sharper than it had been in a long while.

Booth had hit all her insecurities about lacking social skills; Brennan had stirred his old fear of not being smart enough to keep up with her. Both of them cast a quick sideways glance every once in a while, missing the easy familiarity that had dominated their time in Venice, and both of them were too stubborn to back-pedal.

This time, Booth didn't help her with her luggage – not that she would have let him – and when they received their single key at the hotel reception, she asked for another one.

She didn't know it, but his heart sunk at her request.

He didn't know it, but hers went down along with his.

-BONES-

When Brennan shut the door behind herself, she felt lonely, and it annoyed her beyond belief. For most of her life she had been alone, but not lonely, and after only fours days in his company, everything felt different... 'Four days _and_ four nights,' her mind added, mocking her just like the empty big bed in the corner.

Slumping on the mattress, Brennan rubbed her temples with a sigh. Dull pain was pulsating inside of her head, creeping into every cell of her brain.

Feeling weak and pathetic, she longed for his reassuring smile, maybe even for a hug, but she couldn't swallow her pride. Nor her hurt. Needing someone wasn't a concept Temperance Brennan was familiar with, and she refused to let four simple days change that fact. After all, it was who she was. So she opted for taking some painkillers, and, fully clothed, she curled up on the big empty bed. Alone.

-BONES-

Booth was pissed. Seriously pissed. What was it about Temperance Brennan that could make his blood boil so easily, why did he react to her so strongly? Granted, he appreciated her opinion more than anybody else's, and of course she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, but he _knew_ her.

He knew her way to look at things and her system of values. He was familiar with the strange twists her mind did. He knew how to push her buttons just as much as she knew how to push his. Why did he do it anyways? Why did she do it?

And now, now he knew how sleeping with her head on his shoulder felt. How soft and kitten-like the noises were she made in her dreams. How she looked first thing in the morning.

From now on he would carry this knowledge like a sweet burden in his heart.

Sighing, he threw his suitcase on the bed.

'Stupid Angela, stupid Hodgins, stupid Europe.'

Casting a glance at his watch, Booth didn't know what to do with the rest of the day. It was only early afternoon, and the lovely city of Paris waited to be discovered... but doing it without her felt wrong. Regardless of how mad he was at her, he wanted her to be with him.

Sighing one more time, Booth turned around to leave the room.

-BONES-

"Bones?"

A knock interrupted the dark cloud of her headache, followed by his voice calling his name for her.

"Bones?"

This time it sounded just a bit desperately.

"It's open," she answered in a low voice, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the doorknob turn.

"Bones!"

His voice was higher than usual, and a heartbeat later she felt his palm touching her forehead. Warm and strong.

Her face was even paler than normally, a few strands of her mahogany hair sticking to her sweaty brow. She looked so small, so fragile, and whenever he had felt the need to protect her in the past, it had been nothing compared to the rush of tenderness and empathy that filled every cell of his being right now.

"What is it? Are you hurt?"

"Headache," she murmured, and before she could blink, he had closed the blinds and, after a quick detour to her bathroom, he was back at her side, a cold and damp washcloth in his hands. Placing it on her forehead, he crawled up on the bed until his back rested against the headboard.

Once he was seated, he reached for her, pulling her up. She whimpered, but he didn't stop until her back touched his strong chest. His fingers started to massage her scalp, gently at first, but as soon as she relaxed under his hands, his touch got firmer. He rubbed her temples with his thumbs and let the silkiness of her hair run through his fingers, as he tried to knead the pain away.

After a while the dull throbbing subsided, and along with his embosomed scent, Brennan registered his words. He was whispering soft apologies, was telling her about their time in Venice, recalling fond memories of the last years. It was soothing nonsense, but she heard him. And heard him.

"Booth, I'm sorry as well," she finally murmured, and his hold on her tightened just a bit.

"Why do we end up hurting each other so often?" he whispered and felt her shrug.

"The closer a person is to you, the more they can hurt you..."

Defenseless against her words, Booth embraced them in his heart.

"We've been pretty close these last days..."

"I... I know. It's scary somehow," she confessed.

"I know," he repeated her words. "You feel better?"

Snuggling deeper into his chest, she nodded.

"Yes, that was very soothing. Thank you."

His arms wrapped securely around her waist until his palms came to a halt on her soft belly.

"Everybody needs somebody sometimes."

As soon as the words had left his lips, she went rigid in his arms, her old fear overwhelming her.

"I don't need you, Booth."

The words came out harsher than intended, but she couldn't take them back anymore, and the arms that had cradled her just a moment ago, loosened and fell down.

"Jeez, Bones, can't you accept it just for once?"

"I am not weak. I don't need you or anybody else," she insisted.

"Five minutes ago you accepted my help very thankfully," he reminded her, and she flinched.

"Is it always about you helping me? You telling me how to lead my life? You saving me and protecting me?"

"No, Bones, not always, only when you _need_ my help," he snarled.

"How often shall I repeat it?_ I don't need you!_"

"Stupid rational woman!"

"Stupid alpha male!"

Silence fell over them as they were breathing heavily, her body still leaning against his chest. Suddenly it was too much, too close, and he pushed her away to get up from the bed. Immediately, she mourned the loss of his warmth, but one more time today she bit her tongue in pride, unwilling to let him win. Unaware that this way, they would both lose.

When he spoke again, his voice was cold and lifeless in the darkness.

"Maybe it's for the best when we don't see each other tomorrow. Have fun discovering Paris, Bones."

Then he was gone, and as soon as the door fell close behind him, something shattered inside of her, and an angry tear left her eye.

He had been right. She had needed him. And that had been the worst.

-BONES-

Booth awoke at dawn, his body drenched in cold sweat, a silent cry on his lips. A nightmare. Another old companion, one he hadn't missed. The pillow next to him was white and untouched, and his mood went heavy, as he compared this morning to the other ones of their journey.

No Brennan smile for him this time, no pale blue eyes looking at him with sleepy trust.

His chest ached, and he cursed the stupid sweetness which made their former closeness so hard to forget. She was his partner for God's sake, his friend. Why did they have to set foot onto his safe line, why did they have to catch a glimpse of the possibilities that lingered on the other side?

People say the grass is always greener on the other side, but sometimes, sometimes the green you long for is the one of poison ivy... and you only realize it once it's already too late.

Leaving his bed with a sigh of defeat, Booth opted for a quick shower, and fifteen minutes later he left the hotel, breathing the cool French morning air without Brennan by his side.

Their hotel was in Montmartre, the famous artist's district, and when he walked around a gray corner, the impressive silhouette of Sacré Cœur appeared on the hill above him. The white basilica looked almost angry in the dusky early morning light, and suddenly Booth missed Brennan with almost physical pain.

He would have made a comment about the old cathedral looking like a proud matron, she would have giggled and recited some facts she knew about the building. He didn't know anything about it, and despite its beauty, the discovery felt shallow somehow. Following an impulse, Booth climbed up the stairs and entered the house of God. He was greeted by a sea of lights, the scent of frankincense lingering in the air.

Despite his former agitation, he felt quiet calm settling over him, as he made the sign of the cross. The palpable presence of his religion could always ease him, and Booth remembered the only time when he had been in a church with Brennan. It had been after the Gravedigger had buried her alive, and back then he had been with Cam. That had been the reason why he hadn't hugged his partner after he had pulled her out of the sand. His soul had been so raw, and had he hugged her, he wouldn't have released her again.

However, he had needed to give her something, to reassure her and himself of their connection, and therefore he had taken her to the church, had revealed this part of his being to her.

And she had accepted it.

Next to the statue of Mother Mary, Booth lightened two candles, as always. One was for Teddy Parker, an old army buddy he had known in his former life, the other one was for Christine Brennan, her mother. He had never told Bones – what's the use of it? – but he felt better somehow.

Lunchtime came and was ignored. By then he had already bypassed Arc de Triomphe and he had seen the silhouette of the famous Eiffel Tower from afar. It could have been truly lovely, but today the city's beauty just reminded him of her absence.

Just to torture himself even further, Booth decided to visit the Louvre alone, the same museum he had teased her about. He expected to feel bored, but as the sea of old paintings and statues flooded by, he was mesmerized. Monet's colorful blobs, Mona Lisa's smile, the perfect marble curve of the Venus of Milo – he who had never been able to enjoy art before couldn't close his mouth at the exquisite beauty that was surrounding him, and right here right now, face to face with the vividness of dead, old masterpieces, he could understand Brennan. Suddenly, he felt very close to her, and, turning around on his heel, he followed the impulse to _be_ close to her as well.

To tell her about the things he had discovered, to apologize, to see her smile again – whatever, all he knew was that he needed her right now. Maybe more than she had ever needed him.

-BONES-

Brennan awoke at dawn, the blanket a tangle at her feet, her bare arms covered with goosebumps. She had never been cold in Venice because his body had embraced her in the most exquisite warmth ever. Even though she tried to compartmentalize it, she couldn't help but compare this morning to yesterday's one, and the feeling of loss hit her sharply. Brennan didn't know what exactly had happened between the two of them back in Italy, but, nonetheless, she missed it.

After a long shower and breakfast she felt better, and when she left the hotel to explore the city, Paris greeted her with a pale autumn breeze. The trees were full of red-gold leaves, crispy in the wind, and the silhouette of Sacré Cœur dominated the scenery. It was a beautiful building, and Brennan admired its symmetrical structure, but without Booth by her side it was... just a building. There was no magic halo surrounding it, no palpable connection to a higher power. It felt empty somehow, and she missed his faith which would have given it a deeper meaning.

An old gypsy woman with an accordion was sitting on the stairs which led to the basilica, and Brennan stood still, listening to the music. The melody rose into the sky until it vanished in the clouds, telling about sadness and longing. Her heart clenched unexpectedly, and she turned around to leave the melancholic hill of Montmartre behind.

Lost in thoughts, she wandered the streets for a while, passing little cheese shops and bistros. She wondered what Booth was doing right now, and she missed a million bits and bobs which had filled their last days. Laughing in shared disgust about mold cheese, the sound of his footsteps next to hers, the delight in his brown eyes when a chocolaterie lured with sweet delicacies.

Walking around the corner, the russet frame of the Eiffel Tower manifested on the horizon. It looked tiny from afar, but it was almost painfully beautiful. Brennan decided with a sigh to look for a metro station and visit the Louvre. Maybe the memories of him wouldn't be following her there.

-BONES-

Booth saw her immediately. Her dark hair restrained in a messy knot, the elegant curve of her neck bent over a piece of art, and her pale skin competed with the alabaster of the statue for perfection. Stopping mid-track, he hid behind a pillar, taking a deep breath. Only a minute ago he had been so determined to find her, to tell her that he needed her, but suddenly his courage left with lightning speed.

After all, they were Booth and Brennan, and they were... complicated.

Sneaking another peek, he was captivated by her beauty. She was obviously lost in the moment, oblivious to everything else but the statue, even to a Southern-looking man who was watching her and not the exhibits.

Overwhelmed by a sharp pang of jealousy, Booth set himself in motion, praying that he would know what to say as soon as she had noticed him. When he was close enough to see the freckles on her skin, close enough for her to catch the familiar scent which made her heart ache, he had an idea. It was crazy, somehow, but it was an idea.

Brennan's head turned around, and her blue eyes lit up as she saw her partner, her spontaneous joy filling him with pride.

"It's perfect, isn't it?" he asked, pointing at the statue which was looking at them with a century-old smile.

"So beautiful that I have forgotten the time," she agreed.

"I know, I have to confess I've been watching you for quite a while. You made the view even more perfect. But forgive me," he said, reaching out his hand to her, "my name is... Joseph."

"Joseph?"

Arching an eyebrow at him, she shook his hand. As warm as she remembered.

"Yes. It's actually my middle name, but I prefer being called by it. What's your name?"

"My name... Joy," she finally said, and his heart was flooded with warmth.

"That's a beautiful name."

"It's my Christian name. So, Joseph, are you alone in Paris?"

"Let's just say that I've missed company all day long. What about you."

"It's a strange coincidence, but the same goes for me."

They exchanged a silent gaze, both of them knowing exactly what the other one was referring to.

"Would you do me the honor to spend the evening with me, Joy?"

"I'd love to, Joseph," she answered, tilting her head and giving him a smile.

He offered her the crook of his arm, and together they resumed their walk through the exhibition.

"So, Joseph, why are you alone in the city of lights? Is there no one you want to share it with?"

Brennan didn't know where there question came from, but, hiding behind Joy and Joseph, she found the courage to ask it.

"Actually, there is."

"What about her? Or is it a him?" she teased.

"It's a her. She is beautiful, very unique, scary smart and she has the prettiest smile ever. I have to confess, you remind me of her," he stated, avoiding her eyes.

"She sounds very special," she said hoarsely.

"Yeah, she is. What about you?"

"I know someone special as well," she admitted on a whisper.

They walked in silence for a while, and he enjoyed the sweet weight of her on his arm even more than the museum itself. Regarding him like the stranger he pretended to be, Brennan traced his structure with her gaze. He was tall, his shoulders broad, and he emanated a gracious kind of strength. One that wasn't scary or dominant but one that felt reassuring. His smile was candid and touched his brown eyes. She felt safe. Eventually, he cleared his throat and looked at her fully.

"Do you wanna accompany me to dinner, Joy?"

"I could eat."

They found a small restaurant a few streets away from the Louvre. Only ten little tables filled the space, decorated with checkered tablecloths, candles and fresh flowers. It looked private and cozy. They ordered wine, red, and their mouths watered when they read the menu.

"I think I'll try the mussels. What about you?"

"I am a vegetarian, so no mussels for me."

Taking a sip of his wine, he closed the menu, giving her his undivided attention.

"That is interesting. You are a very compassionate person, then?"

She shrugged, opting for a mushroom dish.

"Only when it comes to animals. I'm often told that I'm not good with people, though."

"Seriously? I have to say that I enjoy your company very much."

She blushed, even though she didn't know if it was Booth or Joseph speaking. Or maybe both.

"You're an exception, then."

"What about the special someone in your life?"

Twisting her glass in her hand, Brennan pondered his question.

"Hmm... He knows me very well, which is mostly wonderful, sometimes scary and very rarely a curse. We fight sometimes, and it isn't nice."

"I'm sure he," he took a deep breath as his voice faltered, "I'm sure he never means to hurt you, and I'm convinced that you mean a lot to him."

"I wish it was that easy..."

"It never is, isn't it? Joy, tell me, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a... writer."

"Ah! Anything I know?"

"I doubt it. I write crime novels."

"Wow, you must have a very good imagination."

"What about you, Joseph?"

Warming up to their little role play, Brennan braced on her forearms and regarded him curiously.

"I'm a coach. Hockey."

"So you're a people person?"

Wiggling his head, he took another sip of his wine.

"I like to think so. Although I sometimes end up hurting the person who matters the most."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"The special woman?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't even know. Somehow I can't think clearly when it comes to her."

"How do you feel when you fight?"

"Hurt. Confused. I don't know, she can rock my world like no one else. Makes it shatter, you know?"

"I know the feeling. Do you think that there are people who better shouldn't be together?"

"Yes, I believe that."

Noticing the flicker of hurt in her eyes, he hurried to clarify.

"There are people who are not good for each other, who destroy each other. But she and me – we are not among them. We _are_ good together. Perfect even."

Hiding her shaking hands underneath the tablecloth, Brennan took a deep breath.

"I think she feels that as well, Joseph, but maybe she is scared what it could mean."

The waiter chose that moment to bring their meals, but both of them were actually grateful for the interruption. Even with Joy and Joseph protecting them, the conversation had been intense, and they needed a moment to regain composure.

His mussels were spicy, her mushrooms delicious, and both of them enjoyed the simple bliss a good meal can bring. Candlelight and wine softened the atmosphere, and somewhere afar a French chanson was dancing in the air. It was a Parisian evening like it should be.

After dinner they were roaming the streets, and the city of lights unfolded its nighty beauty. It was quite a distance to their hotel, but neither of them minded the walk. The spotlight on top of the Eiffel Tower was cutting into the starry sky like a laser sword, appearing over the rooftops every once in a while, and as he noticed her shivers, Booth pulled out his jacket to wrap it around her shoulders. She thanked him with a smile, and the evening felt beautiful but surreal.

After a while of comfortable silence, he took a deep breath.

"Under the cloud of night I have to confess that you are the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

His words touched her unexpectedly, but she tried to hide it.

"What about her?"

"Don't do that," he pleaded on a whisper, and she nodded in the dark.

"Thank you... Under the cloud of night _I_ have to confess that never before I enjoyed someone's company that much."

And just like that, his fingers curled around hers, and even though a colony of butterflies was fluttering through her insides, she didn't remove it. They were walking home in silence, Joy and Joseph in their wake, and only the French air was whispering around them.

In a quiet street in the ninth arrondissement, another roamer of the night turned his head as a couple walked by. It had been the woman which had caught his attention, but on second glance there was something even more beautiful to find. It was in the way they held hands, in the way a man's jacket was covering her, in the way the man itself was looking at her.

The old man smiled involuntarily. He was a born Parisian, a dying species, and in a city that had perfected its artificial mask of romance, it was rare to find something truly romantic. Something like the two of them. They didn't seem to be just one more couple on their way home; somehow they seemed to be more, seemed to be special.

It was nearly midnight when Booth and Brennan had made it back to their hotel, and – wordlessly – he accompanied her to her room. With a tiny smile she handed him back his jacket.

"Thank you, I had a lovely evening."

"That goes both ways," he answered honestly. "Well, goodnight, I guess."

Giving her hand one last squeeze, he turned around, but she stopped him.

"Joseph?"

Stepping closer, she raised onto her tiptoes, and her soft lips grazed his stubbly cheek. He smelled like pepper and night and Booth, and for a moment she didn't know whom she had kissed, but then his mouth was on hers, and she forgot to care. Forgot everything except for the familiar but new sensation.

His lips were caressing hers so tenderly, his strong arms coming around her waist. She was vibrating in his embrace, as her lips opened for his tongue, as the intimacy of the kiss deepened until everything exploded in infinite sweetness.

It ended as sudden as it had begun, and she was looking at him with shimmering blue depths, as he cupped her cheek.

"Oh, Bones..."

Her eyes went wide as the magic of the night crashed with the speed of light into reality.

"Oh my God..."

He saw fear overwhelming her, and he shook his head as if he could prevent it.

"No, please, don't panic and run. Please."

"What do you want from me," she whispered in sheer desperation, taking a step backwards, and he sighed.

"I don't know... Obviously something you cannot give. Sleep... sleep tight..."

Bowing his head, he turned around, and fear mingled with guilt mingled with anger inside of her.

"Who is running now, Booth?" she yelled.

Shaking his head, he didn't stop anymore, and after a while she chased after him, catching up with him in front of his own room.

"Here I am, Booth, what now?" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm.

"Hell, I have no idea, okay? What are we doing here?"

"Oh, I don't know, tell me, _Joseph_! I didn't come up with this charade."

"Sorry, _Joy_," he spat back, and both of them regarded each other with breathless fury.

Her eyes were sparkling with ice-blue fire, her cheeks flushed, and even through the furious haze that was clouding his mind, Booth was mesmerized by her angry beauty. Before he could think, he had her in his arms again, and his mouth crashed onto hers. This time there was nothing tender or sweet about their kiss, only raw fierceness and hunger. She fought him, but only for an instant, then her hands grabbed his collar to pull him closer. His tongue invaded her mouth with ravenous force, and the dominance of his kiss sent a rush of wet fire to her core. Had she been able to breathe right now, she'd have gasped, but so she only clung to his body with everything she had.

A heartbeat later he had somehow managed to open his door, and, pulling her inside, he pushed her backwards against the wall, his lips never leaving hers. He could find a trace of wine in her mouth, but underneath it was just pure and true and Brennan. Capturing her knee, he lifted her leg until it was wrapped around his hip and he could nestle deeper between the juncture of her thighs. He had never been this close to her before, but he could feel her heat, and tonight it was only for him.

She moaned into his mouth, and he could sense the vibration on his tongue, as he drank it from her. Her mouth was soft and wet, so open for him, her lips sucking and nibbling. The hands that had been clutching his collar were pulling and pushing until the buttons gave way and his naked chest was bare to her. Muscles made of steel, covered by skin that felt like velvet underneath her hasty fingertips.

His hands were everywhere – in her hair to loosen the tie, on her sides to roam under her blouse, around her buttocks to rock harder against her. Her head fell back on a groan as she could feel his rock-hard erection pressing into her, and their lips lost contact. Immediately, his mouth was on her neck, his teeth marking the tender skin, his tongue soothing the sharp pain. He could feel her vein pulsating underneath his lips, fast and excited.

Neither of them spoke, but the night-lit air was filled with breathless gasps and throaty moans.

His tongue traveled down her cleavage, sucking the proud swell of her breasts. Too many clothes were still in the way, and with an impatient grunt, Booth pulled her blouse over her head. Brennan lifted her arms to support him, and he tousled her hair in the process. Had he been less out of control, Booth would have felt a strange ache at the sight of her disheveled curls and swollen lips, but tonight he could only cup her nape and plunge his tongue into her mouth anew. He needed to feel her, needed to drink her, needed to drown in her.

Pressing her against the wall with his full body, his hands lost no time to capture her full breasts. The flimsy material of her bra was more a tease than a barrier, and he grazed her hard nipples with his fingernails. She flinched, and he did it again, bolder this time, eliciting a shiver from her. It felt so good that he wanted to do it over and over again. Ripping his mouth from hers, Booth lowered his head, and without hesitation he sucked her bra-clad peak into his wet mouth.

Her head fell back once again, but the pain was neglectable, as her nerve endings were burning in the fire he created. She squirmed, but the movement only added to the pleasant friction their bodies were producing. With his mouth on her breasts, Brennan had lost track of everything else, and it took her by surprise when he slid his hand into her jeans. When had he opened them? His long fingers brushed through her short curls, and then he found her throbbing center, bringing the game to a whole different level with the first touch of his rough thumb.

"Oh God," she panted, as dizziness overwhelmed her, but he wouldn't let her fall.

His mouth that had been sucking her breast moved upwards again, licking along her jawline and behind her ear. And then his finger entered her, touching her in the most intimate way ever. Despite their haste, he didn't plunge into her mindlessly, no, it was a slow and deep stroke, one that made her lose her breath.

"You like?" he whispered into her ear, licking her auricle, and she gasped.

It was Booth's voice in her ear, Booth's breath on her skin, Booth's finger inside of her, and it was almost too much, but – oh – how did she like it!

"Yes," she finally found the strength to say, and he added a second finger to his first one, stretching her.

"Good because this time _I_ would chase _you_ if you ran, Babe."

Her palms low on his back, she pulled him against his own hand that was buried in her pants, and this time it was his turn to gasp.

His tongue plunged into her ear before he licked around it one more time, sucking the earlobe into his mouth. It felt hot and damp, and the rush of blood in her head almost deafened her.

Then he was gone, suddenly gone, and Brennan needed a moment to realize that he was on his knees in front of her, tugging down her pants, removing her shoes as well. Her lace-covered center was at a level with his face, and, ignoring the fabric, he sucked her into his mouth. The sensation was so unexpected – and how could he even find exactly the right spot immediately? – that her hips buckled.

Booth was lost, utterly lost. His crotch was pulsating painfully, his jeans way too tight, but right under his mouth was pure, heavenly Brennan wetness. Even through the barrier of her panties he could taste how much she wanted him, and her scent was as intoxicating as her flavor.

She was squirming under his ministrations, but she was still standing upright.

'That's my girl,' he though with pride, and a second later he teared her panties away, ripping the flimsy piece of lace.

"Oh, sorry."

"Do I look as if I care?" she panted, and almost against his will he had to chuckle.

"No, you look..."

_Oh-my-freaking-God_... His eyes fell to the most private part of her he had just revealed, and her female beauty overwhelmed him somehow. This was Temperance Brennan. Leaning against a wall, her legs spread, her flesh damp with arousal. His partner, his friend, his Bones, his, his, his...

"You look so fucking beautiful," he finally managed to say, as he parted her pink folds with his finger. So satiny, so wet.

He needed to taste her again, just once, and – grabbing her hips – he licked her with his raspy tongue. And again.

A tug on his scalp pulled him out of his reverence, and he followed her lead and got up. Within an instant her hands were at his belt buckle, and then she freed him, feeling the velvety heat of him for the first time. He was thick and hard, and she pumped his shaft without hesitation, banishing the last coherent thoughts in his mind once and for all.

He. Needed. Her.

With a feral grunt he pushed her hands away, grabbing her hips to lift her until he was aligned properly. Then he pushed forward, and in a rush of frenzy and lust and bliss he filled her for the first time.

_So fucking tight and wet._

His mind switched off. Heaven.

Her arms wrapped around his nape, Brennan buried her head in the crook of his neck as he started to move inside of her. He was thick, stretching her completely, but she didn't feel any discomfort. She only felt his burning hot hardness slamming into her, hitting her in the most delicate way ever.

_Oh so good._

Her bra-clad breast rubbed against his bare chest, her taut nipples pressing painfully against the flimsy lace.

She was Temperance Brennan, taken by her partner against the wall, and it was so wicked, so sensual, so primeval that way too soon her muscles began to clench. Feeling it as well, Booth bit lightly into her earlobe.

"Come for me," he demanded, and the dominant tone of his words combined with the in-and-out rhythm of his slick cock shattered her world into pieces. Stars exploded behind her eyelids, and with a cry, she sunk her teeth into his shoulder and surrendered herself to waves as old as time.

Her walls squeezed him mercilessly, and then he swelled even further, and – shivering violently – he emptied himself into her body with a last, strong thrust.

Was followed was darkness.

-BONES-

They found themselves on the floor. With the frenzy subsided, Booth's chest ached at her disheveled beauty, and all he wanted to do was take her into his arms, but he didn't know if he was allowed to do so. When he touched her shoulder in a featherlight caress, she tilted her head to look at him with drowsy eyes.

"Hi," she offered.

"Hi," he smiled right back.

"That was..."

Amazing. A mistake. So amazing. A big mistake.

"Spontaneous?" he helped her, and she chuckled, remembering the situation that had led to their vacation.

"A mistake?" he added in a low tone, and she shrugged.

"Maybe..."

"It could complicate things even further..."

She sighed.

"Enough, Booth. That was very satisfying sex, don't let us ruin it right away. Lets not dissect things as long as I can still feel you inside of me."

The last part came on a whisper, and now he _did_ reach out to her, drawing her into his arms. She came willingly and melted into his embrace. She smelled like sex and him, her body still slightly sweaty and warm. His seed still inside of her.

_Oh holy shit._

"Bones," he gasped, "we didn't use anything..."

"Relax," she reassured him with slow circles on his back, "I'm safe."

"Oh, thank you. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, Booth, I didn't say anything, either. It's not the way I do it usually."

"Bones... will you stay here tonight? Just because? I slept crappy last night, and I really don't wanna leave you right now."

"Yes," she simply said, thinking about her own regrets. Had it only been this morning?

"Come on, I'll carry you to bed."

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Then I'll carry you there."

"Forget it."

"Why? Please, let me carry you somewhere."

"No way."

"Yes way?"

"Your alpha male tendencies can be annoying at times."

"You didn't complain half an hour ago, woman."

"I said 'at times', _man_."

It took her fifteen minutes to shower and get dressed into one of his shirts and boxers, and Booth paced the room every single one of them, wondering if she might change her mind, leaving him after all. He didn't really know what to do about this, about her, what the evening meant, but he knew that every fiber of his being wanted to stay with her tonight.

She didn't change her mind, not during her bathroom time nor during his, and when he slid under the blanket beside her, she came into his arms just like she had done it the last nights in Venice. Save that she was lying just a few inches closer today, her hand lingering lower on his back than ever.

Hesitating briefly, Booth grazed her mouth experimentally, unsure about her reaction, but she snuggled into his embrace and parted her heavenly lips for him.

This kiss – their third kind of kiss tonight – was languid and soft, the one you only share after sated passion. And they know it.

-BONES-

The sun was up long before one of them stirred, filling the spacy room with fresh morning light, smiling at the couple of lovers that was entangled in each other. Finally the man's eyelids fluttered, and unfocused brown eyes were directed at the sleeping woman in his arms. Blinking a few times, Booth tried to clear his mind, irrationally glad that he had been the first to wake up. Brennan pouted in sleep, and it was so cute that he had to smile involuntarily. She looked so tiny and young in his shirt. His heart was open, so open, and he was scared to death.

They couldn't run down that road, but were they already past the point of no return? Could he go back to watching her dating moron after moron? What other option did he have?

With a sigh, he caressed her rosy cheek. Being able to touch her in sleep felt dangerously right, and suddenly her eyes snapped open, and he fell into her pale blue sky.

"Hi there," he rasped.

"Good morning," she answered in her tiny voice.

For a breathless moment, both of them just looked at each other, adjusting to the new situation. Whatever it was.

"We slept in," he finally smiled, and she turned her head to cast a glance at her clock.

"Already half past ten? Wow, that's unusual."

"Well, it was late last night."

"I suppose it was..."

"Shall we," he started, but she cut him off.

"Have breakfast? Most definitely."

Her childlike eyes pleaded him, and he nodded.

"I could kill for coffee."

"I don't think that will be necessary," she answered in relief, and with a last shared smile full of something they left the nest of his bed. Which smelled like them.

-BONES-

They did have breakfast, a classic French breakfast with buttery croissants and big bowls of café au lait, and by the time they dove into the hurly-burly of Paris' streets, they had almost found back to their easy banter. Except for that moment when she stumbled on the stairs of the Eiffel Tower and he had to catch her, holding her a heartbeat longer than necessary. Or that other moment when they were in the cabaret, and her mouth brushed his ear while she whispered something, sending shivers down his spine.

They said goodbye to each other at the end of the day, both of them retreating to their respective rooms, both of them filled with a strange wistful longing. She tried to blame it on the charm of this enchanted city, he – being wiser than her – knew that something was about to change.

Because with her by his side, somehow the Eiffel Tower had been a little bit higher, the Seine less gray and the sky just a tad brighter.

-BONES-

Meanwhile in D.C...

"Honey, this is not good."

Entering her boyfriend's lab, Angela Montenegro waved with a little piece of colored cardboard, stopping mid-track as she saw the twin of her postcard in Hodgins' hand. Looking up with baby blue eyes, the entomologist spotted hers as well.

"You, too, huh?"

"Yeah. It's from Venice."

"Just like mine. What does yours say."

"Not much. Lovely greetings, beautiful city, blah-blah, they hope that I am feeling better. Yours?"

"Pretty much the same. Except for a remark about beautiful Italian women."

"You said Booth would have figured it out..."

"By the time he saw the one bed, Baby."

"Then this is not good at all."

"So not good."

"We're in trouble."

"Oh, yeah."

"What can we do?"

Pulling his girlfriend into his arms, Hodgins rocked her absentmindedly.

"They say Iceland is beautiful at this time of the year..."

To be continued...

_Dublin anyone?_


	4. Dublin

FFnet works again! *Dancing around happily*

_**Read before you yell at me:**__ Dear readers, I know that I said, "__**Three**__ years of sexual tension," and with one scene I crash the timeline because the thing I refer to happened in season __**four**__. Please forgive me for this inconsistency, the opportunity was simply too tempting... You'll know what I mean soon._

IV. Dublin

Ireland greeted them with heavy rain and dark clouds, so Booth and Brennan were glad as the cab stopped directly in front of their hotel near Tara Street Station. The venerable stonewall of Trinity College was just across the street, and she felt awe and calm face to face with the treasury of knowledge. Whatever it was that Booth experienced in a church, Brennan mused that it was similar to what she found in lecture halls or old libraries.

Noticing her reverent gaze, Booth leaned closer and whispered into her ear.

"You wanna take a look?"

"Is it that obvious?"

Her eyes where shimmering deep and crystal blue, her cheeks possessed a rosy glow. Hell, whatever she wanted when she looked like that, he would give it to her.

"Let's just drop off our luggage and grab an umbrella."

"Sure."

Tearing her gaze away from the college, Brennan followed her partner inside, and soon they were confronted with their old problem. One room. Twisting her hands, she did not really know if she hoped that there would or would not be another vacant room...

"Welcome to Baile Átha Cliath," the old man at the reception greeted them, rolling the Irish name of the city on his tongue.

"Thank you. We have a reservation for Brennan and Booth."

Browsing an old-fashioned book, the man found their names and nodded.

"One of our finest rooms, young man. I'm sure you and your lovely lady will enjoy your stay in good old Dublin."

"Well, ahem," casting a glance at Brennan who was fidgeting next to him, "do you happen to have a second room for us? There was a misunderstanding with the booking our friends made for us."

The old man let his gaze wander from the woman to the man in front of him. 'Whom are they kidding?' he thought, as he shook his head.

"I'm afraid, but there is no extra room available at the moment. What I could do, though, is change bookings and give you twin beds instead of a double bed."

Looking at Brennan didn't really help to make the decision, so Booth finally nodded.

"That would be very nice, thank you."

One room. Part of her was relieved, another part terrified. Two beds. Surprisingly every part of her was annoyed about that fact, as Brennan realized that there wouldn't be a reasonable excuse to sleep in his arms. And even though she didn't even know if she wanted to do so, she mourned the loss of the opportunity.

Lost in thoughts, she hadn't really paid attention to their surroundings, and Booth's voice caught her by surprise.

"Welcome home," he exclaimed theatrically, pushing the door open. "Shall I carry you over the threshold?" he added with a cocky grin.

Rolling her eyes, she entered the room.

"That would be inappropriate."

The room was simple but tasteful, two beds standing with modest distance from each other, gray light shining in through the window.

"Are you okay with the room arrangement, Bones?"

"I suppose it's the best we could do, so, yes," she lied.

Was it a lie?

Brennan was confused. Ever since they had begun their journey, something had changed, borders had been crossed. And not only literally speaking. In her mind's eye she could still see his naked chest, glistening with sweat, his face beautifully twisted in arousal. She could still taste him on her tongue – even though it was impossible – and she knew how it felt when he was moving inside of her. When they were one. Connected as intimately as possible.

There was no way how this could happen again, but, sometimes, when he looked at her and she, Temperance Brennan, could find the universe in his eyes, a tiny voice inside of her whispered how it could _not_ happen again.

She craved him.

He was Booth her friend, Booth her partner, but ever since they hadn't said goodbye to each other two nights ago, she longed for Booth the lover. His unique scent, this so familiar mix of aftershave, detergent and him could create warmth in her body now, and when she looked at his fully clothed chest, she imagined his uncovered skin. Her breasts felt heavier when he was around, and there was a sway in her hips which hadn't been there a few days ago.

It had been more than only a fuck against the wall, somewhere not so deep down she had understood it, but, nonetheless, the sheer erotic impact of her memories was disturbing as well...

Booth watched her curiously. He had long finished unpacking his suitcase, but his delectable partner was frozen in the middle of the room, deeply lost in thoughts. What was she thinking about?

"Bones?" he tried, and her eyes burned into his.

Her eyelids looked heavy, her pupils dilated, and when the tip of her rosy tongue darted out to moisten her lips, he forgot how to breath. He had only seen it once before, but the look on her face spoke of sensuality, and never in his life would he be able to forget it. Instantly his body reacted to her on the most basic level ever. The air between them was vibrating, and his gaze caressed every single one of her perfect curves. Perfect to touch, perfect to taste, plain perfect.

Brennan straightened her back, as she felt his eyes roaming over her body, emphasizing her proud breasts, and, as involuntary as the movement had been, he noticed it, and it reminded him of reality.

"Trinity College?" he finally managed to rasp, and she blinked a few times, as if ripped out of a dream with violent force.

"Yeah, sure..."

-BONES-

Hiding under one umbrella, Booth and Brennan dove into the organism that was Dublin's Trinity College. The vast green, normally probably covered with students and their backpacks, was untouched, the grass tickled by nothing more than raindrops and wind.

"Do you know somebody here, Bones?"

"Not personally."

"You know, you should announce your visit somehow, they'd probably give you a special tour or something like that."

She shook her head, and the tresses brushed his shoulder.

"No, I'm on vacation and for once in my life I just wanna be a normal tourist."

"Okay. So, what is so special about this place?"

"For once they have the Book of Kells, a version of the New Testament which dates back to approximately 800. The illustrations are spectacular."

"We're here because of an old, dusty book?"

"Well, there is the library itself as well. It's the largest library in Ireland, and they have one of the three oldest Gaelic harps."

"Books and a harp."

"It's quite impressive, Booth."

Remembering his Louvre experience, Booth bit back a nasty comment.

"Okay, show it to me."

The Book of Kells was indeed beautiful, and Booth had to suppress the sudden impulse to make the sign of the cross. They studied the decorated leaves made out of calf vellum for a long time, and somehow it wasn't tiring at all. Then they stepped through a door, and Booth had to gasp in surprise.

"This is the Long Room, Booth," she whispered.

There were books, books as far as his eyes could reach, but even more breathtaking was the room itself; more than two-hundred feet long, the ceiling forming a kind of arch somewhere far above his head. Everything seemed to be made out of wood, and he could almost see his reflection in the shiny floor.

"Holy shit..."

"I'm glad the place could impress you after all."

"Wow, that is a hell of a library, Bones."

She smiled in satisfaction, but suddenly the place triggered another memory. Taking a deep breath, Brennan turned around and whispered into his ear.

"Mr. Booth, do you know what the penalty is for an overdue book?"

Eyes wide open, he bent his head to catch her devilish gaze.

"I suppose for books like these it's even graver. Why don't you tell me, Ms. Brennan," he answered, arching an eyebrow at her.

With a quick backwards glance to the guard who was standing at the entrance, Brennan opened the first button of her blouse.

"Well, in the end it's me who decides about the penalty, Mr. Booth," she answered, tilting her head.

"And what could I do to placate you, Ms. Brennan?" he asked huskily, his finger tracing her jaw.

Stepping closer until their pelvises touched, Brennan let her hand slid down his thigh.

"You could help me to brush the dust off, Mr. Booth. There is a lot of dust around here."

The guard in his corner harrumphed not so discretely, and both of them jumped apart. Booth was the first to smile, but she was the first to giggle, and when both of them erupted in silly laughter, they hurried out of the room under the strict gaze of the guard.

"Now I'm somehow glad you didn't announce your presence at all," he chuckled when he was able to speak again.

"Yes, that could have been embarrassing," she agreed, holding her belly.

They resumed their walk silently, but after a while he gave her a wicked grin, taking in the milky-white skin of her cleavage.

"The best you could come up with was dust?"

Closing her button again, she shrugged.

"No, that was only the _first_ thing I could come up with," she answered, taking his breath away one more time.

-BONES-

Since the weather was still unsteady – call it Irish – they opted for another indoor activity, the world-renowned Guinness brewery.

"This is the storehouse where, for almost a century the magic process of fermentation took place," Booth read. "Wow, Bones, this sounds like something you could have written."

"I disagree," she shook her head, causing her hair to wave around her face, "not lethal enough."

He chuckled.

"I bet Guinness killed more than one fine man. You like writing a lot, don't you?"

"Yes," she said, and in this one word lay a whole world.

He regarded her with honest curiosity.

"What exactly?"

She shrugged, but his candid smile loosened her tongue.

"I'm not good with people. I'm often oblivious to something everybody else realizes immediately. Sometimes I feel as if I'm drifting on a course I cannot recognize. Then there is work. It always starts with a mystery, and mostly we can solve it, but sometimes not. When I write, it's my world. I know everything, I recognize everything. I'm not drifting anymore because the course is one I have drawn myself. There is a riddle I don't have to solve because I have created it, and there are characters who are built upon my logic. I find that reassuring."

Ending on a tiny smile, she gave him a cautious look, but he only reached out to squeeze her hand.

"That's beautiful. Does writing come easy to you?"

"Most of the time it does. The words are flowing around in my head, I just have to write them down. Very rarely I have to struggle, mostly when it comes to emotions," she confessed.

"Your books never read like a struggle, Bones. You write wonderfully," he complimented her.

"It's a shame that real life isn't like one of my novels, isn't it?"

He watched her for a moment, thinking about his answer.

"No, it's good. Drifting is part of the magic of life, and love has to be complicated. It has to swallow you, shake you and spit you out again. You shouldn't be able to control it. Besides," he smirked, "my character in your books sometimes misses a shot. I'm glad that part isn't for real."

"Andy is not _your character_, Booth."

Giving her a cocky grin, he bumped her with his hips, and she stumbled.

"Ops, sorry. Whatever you say, Bones, I know that you created him with me on your mind."

"I will not discuss this with you again. Booth, did you know that the Guinness World Records are directly linked to one of the former directors of this brewery?"

"Just how stupid exactly do you think I am?"

Their bicker followed them, as they explored the old factory and its exhibitions. The place had something magic, and when they reached the Gravity Bar on the top floor, they were truly ready for their first pint of Guinness. The bar provided them with a spectacular view over the city of Dublin blinking in the evening light, and booth of them took in the sight in awe.

"Sláinte, Booth."

"Sláinte?"

"Well, cheers."

"Ah."

They took a first sip and enjoyed the rich, velvety taste of the dark beer. The day had been fun, even aside from the one or other dangerous moment. Or maybe _because_ of it...

"More than a week, Bones," he said, after a while.

"What?"

"You, me, Europe. More than a week."

Calculating the time in her head, Brennan was surprised to find out that he was right.

"It felt shorter, somehow..."

"I'm enjoying it. Truly. Our vacation, your company."

"Me too, Booth," she answered without hesitation.

"I still think we should kill Angela and Hodgins, though."

"Killing them would be too easy, Booth," she mused, twisting her glass in her hand. "But I think I have an idea..."

"Yeah?" Turning around on his bar stool, he gave her his full attention. "Spill it."

-BONES-

Five Guinness later, Booth and Brennan were stumbling home. Neither of them knew who stabilized the other one, but together they managed the way to their hotel with a certain amount of dignity. Back in their one room, Booth crashed on his bed.

"That last one was too much."

"It's very nutritious, though, we don't have to feel bad about skipping dinner."

"I love your brain, woman."

Nodding, she tried to remove her shoes.

"I have to agree, my brain is very loveable."

With the last word, she managed to remove the stubborn shoe but lost balance and ended up on the floor.

"Ouch."

"You hurt?"

Lying on her back, she wobbled her limbs experimentally.

"Nope."

"Shall I rescue you somehow?" he asked weakly.

"Nope."

"Bathroom? You? Me?"

"You."

With a grunt, he managed to get up. Leaving the bathroom ten minutes later, he found her still on the floor.

"You want a pillow or something?"

"No, I will get up immediately and walk into the bathroom gracefully."

"Graceful like an elf. Or how do they call the animal with the trunk?"

"Funny. Very funny," she stated dryly and started to crawl in the general direction of the bathroom.

"Don't have a shower," he said with one look at her crawling form.

"Why?"

"I'm not in the condition to save you."

"No need. I have to admit that I'm maybe a little bit intoxicated... ouch," she interrupted herself as she bumped into the door frame. "Okay, maybe I'll sit in the shower."

"Don't drown."

The world was spinning somehow as he slid under his blanket, casting one longing glance at the other bed. Too far away. Way too far away. Bloody far away. In the bathroom the rushing sound of the shower was interrupted by an alarming noise.

"Bones?" he yelled weakly.

"I'm fine," came her muffled reply. "Nothing's broken."

Shortly after she emerged from the bathroom, and in his inebriated state he was defenseless against the sight of her.

"Oh, Bones..."

Clad in nothing more that a white terrycloth towel, she padded on bare feet into the room, her wet hair curling dark around her clean face. No make-up. So young, so sweet.

"I forgot my clothes," she whispered shyly, and he could notice goosebumps covering the curve of her shoulders.

Grabbing her nightgown, she was gone again, and he took a deep breath. The feelings he had – they weren't about sex; they were about holding her, warming her, protecting her. It was somehow ironic that he could realize it clearly now when he was feeling so dizzy, but he knew it to be true.

He wanted... something.

The hair dryer cut into the silence of the Irish night, and when she came back for real, the strange feeling of longing hadn't subsided.

Switching off the light, she padded to her bed, sliding under the blanket. He could hear her soft breaths and the sound of raindrops against their window.

"Temperance?" he said after a while.

"Yes?" came her voice in the darkness.

"My arms are empty..."

"Booth..."

"Where do you really wanna sleep?"

He heard her sigh and almost cringed inwardly, but then her sheets rustled. Two heartbeats later his own mattress shifted under her weight, and he robbed away a few inches to make place for her. His arms opened, and then her body was pressed to his, her hand on his waist, her head on his shoulder.

"Here," she finally answered on a whisper, and, burying his nose in the achingly familiar texture of her silky hair, he inhaled deeply, placing a kiss on top of her head.

"I'm glad."

It was night in Dublin, and safe in the other's warmth, a man and a woman fell asleep. Together. Out of free will.

-BONES-

At 9 am Booth, Brennan and their headaches woke up. They shared a gaze and a moan, and then her head fell back onto the soft pillow.

"Guinness is bad."

He chuckled weakly.

"Yesterday you said it was nutritious."

"I did?"

"Yeah."

"What else did I say?"

"That you wanted to sleep in my arms."

"Well, I did..."

"Yeah..."

Said arms were still curled around her waist, her legs entangled with his. She could feel the warmth of his skin and the rhythm of his heartbeat. His hips were pressed to hers like the other piece of a puzzle, and Brennan buried her nose in his shirt.

Surprised by her action, he wrapped her up in his arms completely, his fingernails grazing the small of her back. He heard her sigh – a tiny sound that went straight into his chest – and his foot was playing with hers.

From outside sunrays and the sound of traffic were intruding their private moment, but neither of them really cared, neither of them really payed attention to it.

Her fingers toyed with the soft hair on his nape, and she was so warm, so real in his arms that soon another part of his body stirred, one that she felt hard and hot against her lower belly. Taking in a shuddered breath, Brennan widened her thighs just an inch, but it was enough for him to notice, enough for him to be even closer to her, and with a sigh of his own he rolled her around until he was sprawled over her. His finger traced the contours of her face, as she looked at him with azure blue eyes, her legs opening until he lay comfortably between her thighs.

"If we don't get up now, we won't get up at all," he said huskily.

Blinking once, twice, she nodded.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

Kissing her quick and hard, he rolled down from her and got up in one fluid motion.

"Never be sorry. I, ahem, bathroom. Need a cold shower."

And gone he was, leaving her behind out of breath and with her heart thumping wildly. Had he just kissed her? Had they almost...?

"Oh, God," she groaned quietly, covering her eyes with her arm.

Several parts of her body were wide awake, throbbing in protest. However, there was another part as well, one that was shining with nothing but content warmth right in the middle of her chest.

-BONES-

To avoid further potential pitfalls, Booth and Brennan decided to go hiking. Another kind of physical activity sounded like a good idea to both of them, and so the late morning sun found the two of them exploring the green hills of the peninsula of Howth.

Underneath them, the Irish sea was caressing the rocks with tender force, and the blue sky above them was dotted with fluffy white clouds. A mild breeze caressed the grasses and trees which were covering the soft hills. It was rough and beautiful.

An hour into their hiking trail, Booth and Brennan found their hearts beating in a rhythm with their steps, and both of them inhaled the salty, fresh air. It felt like peace.

Her cheeks flushed from the exercise, she looked at him with bright eyes.

"This was a good idea, Booth."

He looked quite happy himself, as he nodded at her.

"A very good idea.

"Booth... do we have to talk about... things?" she asked with a sudden hunch of insecurity in her voice.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he squeezed her reassuringly.

"Not if you don't want to."

"Maybe we could postpone it. Everything feels so... good somehow."

"I know..."

"After all, we're on holidays..."

"It only happened once."

"Right. We can behave ourselves. And the sleeping arrangement is just... friendly."

"Yeah," he agreed, even though something inside of him erupted in mocking laughter. 'Right, you're holding her in your arms like you would do with any other friend.'

"Although..."

"Although?"

Stopping mid-track, she turned around to face him.

"I think about kissing you all the time."

All. The. Time.

He looked at her with dark eyes until everything but her rosy lips blurred.

All. The. Time.

"If I kiss you now, things could get really complicated," he finally managed to say, and the rawness in his voice made her weak in her knees.

"You think about it as well?" she asked on a whisper, and he almost laughed.

"Do you know what you look like? Do you have any idea what I see in you?"

She was standing in front of him like every incarnation of beauty, her shimmering hair tousled by the wind, her eyes as deep and blue as the sea itself.

"You are beautiful, Bones, so damn beautiful that it almost hurts. And you're here with me, just being you, but back home you're my partner, my friend. We _have_ something, and I'm shit-scared that the things we _might_ have as well could ruin what we already have. Does this make any sense to you?"

He was standing in front of her like every incarnation of strength, his handsome face full of honest emotions, his eyes as warm as the brown of the Irish earth.

"I know exactly what you mean, and I feel it as well, Booth," she finally said. "We are we, but now we are we in Europe, and it feels different somehow. But we are still who we were, are, will be. Ah, it's confusing."

Despite the seriousness of the situation he had to grin about her cuteness.

"We are smart, Bones. We will figure it out. But I'm pretty sure that me kissing you won't help... That doesn't mean that I'm not thinking about it. _All the time_."

All. The. Time.

Her eyes sunk into his, and they almost forget their words, their reasons. Almost.

"Shall we?" he said eventually, gesturing at the trail ahead of them.

After all, it was still a long way. In every sense of the word.

-BONES-

Some miles later the weather changed dramatically. Angry dark clouds entered the stage that was the sky, pushing away the sunrays. The growling sound of thunder could be heard, shortly followed by a lightning. The wind had lost its tenderness, hitting their faces sharply.

"Oh,oh," he said, observing the building storm.

Then the sky opened, releasing thick, clear raindrops. Blinking in surprise at the sudden moisture on her cheeks, Brennan grabbed his arm.

"Maybe we should go back."

Shaking his head, he disagreed.

"That would take too long. One more mile, and we should reach a bus stop. At least if our map is correct. Come on, let's hurry."

Taking her hand, Booth dragged her along the trail, into the thunderstorm. Half an hour later her hair was all wet, the dark tresses dangling unruly around her face, and his own shirt stuck uncomfortably to his chest. It had gotten quite chilly, and he pulled her closer to his side as he felt her shivers.

"We're almost there."

Another thunderbolt cut into the dark clouds, lightning up the scenery. It was a devastating beauty, but both of them only longed for a shower and their room.

Raindrops were glistening in her long lashes, falling onto her pale cheeks as if they were tears, and Booth fought against the urge to kiss them away. Then she stepped into a muddy puddle, and despite her wet feet, despite the cold she had to laugh in childlike surprise – and suddenly he didn't know anymore why he had been fighting.

Stopping, he tugged her hand and turned her around until she was facing him. His palm on her nape, he lowered his head and brushed the raindrops away with his lips. Her lashes were tickling his skin, her astonished gasp caressing his ear.

"Booth, you said," she started, but he cut her off with a tender touch of his lips.

"Forget it, I've been a fool," he murmured, and then he was kissing her.

She tasted like the rain itself, like she had so many years ago when he had kissed her for the first time, and her lips were cold under his searching ones. Her response was soft, so soft, and with a breathless moan she let him in, allowing him to drown in her.

And forgotten was the rain, forgotten was the Irish thunderstorm, forgotten was everything but the pure flavor of her mouth, the soft shape of her body pressed to his. His hand tangled in her wet hair, he kissed her with tenderness he had never experienced before, and she felt worshipped and desired and accepted. She _felt_.

When they finally broke apart, she buried her flushed face in his chest, and he cradled her gently, a tiny sigh leaving his lips.

"Is that what you have been thinking about?" he asked on a whisper, and something hit her at the soft tone of his voice. Unable to speak, she simply nodded.

After all, it was like she had said, she had been thinking about kissing Booth. However, she hadn't taken the emotional impact of his kiss into consideration. She hadn't expected the tenderness, she hadn't expected to feel so... whole.

As for Booth... he had expected it, but if expectation was a picture of the sun, experience was equivalent to its warmth on your face, its light dazzling you. And he hadn't been prepared for the light of Temperance Brennan.

Whatever it was they had started, he didn't know if he would be able to stop it.

-BONES-

They didn't kiss again, but neither of them could forget the enchanted moment in the rain. The craving didn't stop, either, but it had changed somehow, had gained new depth. In the evening she didn't even pretend to crawl into her own bed. Their closeness... it was still confusing, none of them was brave enough to label it, but they weren't strong enough to fight it anymore.

He needed to hold her. She needed to be held by him. It was a simple truth born out of a situation that was as far away from simple as Dublin was from D.C.

They were just like the Irish weather. There was sun, there was rain, there was wind, there were lightnings. It was unpredictable and sometimes it didn't make any sense. But in the end... it was just it. A perfect sum made out of a variety of tiny little pieces and contradictions. Just like them.

And if the Irish weather survived the centuries in all its instability... maybe, just maybe Booth and Brennan could do it as well.

-BONES-

Meanwhile in D.C...

"Thank God it's Friday," Angela Montenegro sighed, approaching her boyfriend for a hug.

"Yeah," the curly-haired man agreed, wrapping his arms around her, "the lab is totally crazy without Dr. Brennan."

"They should be in Dublin by now."

"I met my love by the gas works wall, dreamed a dream by the old canal. I kissed my girl by the factory wall... Dirty old town, dirty old town," he sung quietly, and she giggled.

"Do you think something will change for them?"

Hodgins shrugged.

"Oh, boy, I really hope so."

A knock on the door interrupted their musings, and the two of them turned their heads, spotting a tall man with a coat and a hat.

"Dr. Hodgins and Ms. Montenegro, I assume?"

"Yes, how can we help you?"

"Ah, the question is more how can I help you. My name is Lester MacLeroy, I'm here to do Dr. Brennan a favor."

"Brennan sends you? Why?"

"I'm a couple therapist, and Dr. Brennan booked me for a week to work with the two of you. She already informed me about your background story and told me how much you two are looking forward to the therapy. I scheduled our first lesson for 9 am tomorrow."

Lost for words, Angela and Hodgins listened to the psychologist, and before one of them could say anything, the Doctor had handed them his business card and a sheet with their therapy schedule. As sudden as he had appeared, the man was gone again.

"All weekend long," Hodgins exclaimed with a glance at the paper in his hand.

"Oh my God, have you seen the five steps?" Angela cried out.

"She. He. We. Trust. Sexuality," he read with wide eyes. "Oh boy, were did she find him?"

"Okay, if they don't come back happily in love with each other, I will kill her."

"We don't really have a choice, do we?"

"I can't see a smooth way out of this."

And with a sigh, the two of them resigned themselves to their fate, sending a silent curse over the ocean to Europe, where their friends were still asleep in pre-sunset peace, their hearts beating close to each other.

To be continued...

___Once again, I'm sorry for the timeline inconsistency, but I needed the librarian reference :-) _

___By the way, a few of you asked, "Why not Spain or London?" Well, we already got them in London, and I couldn't do it better. The places they visit here are places I love dearly, but of course there would have been so many others as well. Next chapter will be Lisbon._


	5. Lisbon

V. Lisbon

On the plane to Portugal, Booth fell asleep. From her seat next to the window, Brennan had an excellent view, but every other second her eyes flickered to her sleeping partner, and after a while she stopped pretending to look at the scenery beyond her and just watched him.

There were wrinkles around his eyes, lines around his lips, most of them from laughing. He had shaved this morning, she had been there, and his cheeks looked still smooth. His hand lay on the armrest between them, and, following an impulse, she covered it with her smaller, fainter one.

He mumbled incoherently, but he didn't open his eyes, only his head rolled in the direction of her shoulder.

His face, his handsome face was so intimately familiar to her. She knew that the hollow between his neck and shoulder was perfect for her head, she knew the amount of pressure he applied when he wrapped his arms around her. She knew his eyes clouded with sleep, his hair mussed in the early morning. She knew that his lips were soft and warm.

All the things she had learned were so precious to her, and part of her wished that their journey would never end, that their little pocket universe of intimacy, hugs and kisses could last.

Their plane hit a wind gust, and her insides did a somersault at the unexpected movement. Then she found his brown eyes open, looking at her, and her stomach did it again.

"Hi," he said in this raspy voice he possessed right after waking up.

Another fragment of knowledge.

Smiling at him with tenderness, Brennan lowered her head and kissed the corner of his mouth. And again.

At first, he didn't react, but at the third touch of her lips, he cupped her cheek and held her in place, his mouth opening for her. His tongue felt as raspy as silk as it met hers, and without haste the kiss unfolded until both of them were consumed by infinite sweetness.

When they broke apart, Brennan leaned her cheek into his palm. He looked at her with a heart-warming mixture of arousal and confusion, and she kissed his thumb.

"Booth, we could always have Europe," she said out of breath before he could ask a question.

"Huh?"

"Whatever we do during this journey, it doesn't have to change the parameters of our relationship back in D.C."

Furrowing his brow he looked at her as if she had gotten crazy.

"A holiday fling?"

She cringed at his words.

"No, more a hiatus. Time-out. Pocket universe. Different ground rules for a limited period of time."

"Different ground rules? For example?" he arched an eyebrow at her, but something inside of him was tempted.

"No rules at all. Touch me, hug me, kiss me, taste me, call me 'Baby'. Whatever you want," she whispered close to his mouth, her breath caressing his lips.

He groaned and, defenseless against the sensuality in her words, he captured her mouth anew, and this time their kiss was less tender and more hungry.

"Whatever I want?"

"For as long as we are on our journey. Maybe it could even help our working relationship, ease the tension."

He had difficulties following her words because his mind was still repeating "taste me" over and over again until the reasonable part of him disappeared with a sigh of defeat. He flashed her a smile.

"Okay, Babe."

And just like that they had set new ground rules. At least for a limited period of time.

-BONES-

Even though it was late October, Lisbon smelled like summer and not like autumn. The city was built on seven hills, and their cab crawled up- and downwards the narrow streets, bringing them to their accommodation in the oldest district Alfama. This time they wouldn't stay in a hotel but in a flat, and for once Brennan welcomed Booth's alpha-male-tendencies that encouraged him to carry her suitcase up the steep wooden stairs to their flat on the top floor.

Breathing heavily, he brushed the sweat off his forehead, as she opened the balcony doors.

"Oh, Booth, you have to see this!"

Following her voice, he stepped onto the balcony behind her, taking in the view. It was breathtaking. Underneath them the bay of the Tejo river glistened in the sunlight, on the left side a serpentine road led to the impressive Castle of Lisbon towering above them. The air smelled like sunshine and grilled fish, and somewhere yearning music was playing. On the balcony across the street clothes on a laundry line were fluttering in the wind, joined by a budgie cage and its inhabitant.

It was Portugal like old men knew it.

"Wow, Bones, we're on holiday!"

Chuckling, she leaned her back against his chest, and his arms wrapped themselves around her waist. It felt nothing but natural.

"We've been on holiday for quite a while now," she reminded him.

"Yeah, I know, but Venice, Paris and Dublin were... well, just them. This is blue sky and summer in the air. This is a real vacation, and I insist that you are gonna wear a dress."

"A dress? Why?"

"Because," he nibbled her neck from behind, "I want to see you in a dress. Do it, just for me."

"I don't think I have a dress with me..."

"Then we have to buy one."

"You're serious?"

"Absolutely."

Their flat was neat and tasteful. Two bedrooms – a big and a smaller one – a bathroom, a tiny kitchen and the living room with the balcony. The floor was wooden, the walls white. Sunlight was shining in, enriching the place's simple beauty, and Brennan grabbed her suitcase to drag it into one room.

"Let's take the smaller one, okay?" came his voice from behind, and she turned her head in surprise.

"Why?"

"Sunrise view. You didn't plan to sleep alone, did you?"

Looking down in sudden shyness, she shook her head.

"No."

Taking a step in her direction, he tapped her chin with his thumb.

"Hey, look at me. We don't have to do this, Bones."

Her eyes flew to his, and for a moment she was mesmerized. He was standing with his back to the open balcony door, the light forming a kind of halo around his frame.

"There are very few lines we haven't already crossed, Booth."

Raising onto her tiptoes, she brushed her lips over his feather-lightly, and he pushed a curl out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"I'll unpack and change."

"Find me on the balcony."

It was early evening, but the sun hadn't lost its power yet. In their kitchen Booth discovered a cold bottle of Vino Verde, a light, almost sparkling Portuguese wine, and fresh, crispy bread. The balcony was long but narrow, and he placed a cozy armchair on it and took a seat.

Fifteen minutes later she found him in the sun and entered the balcony, wearing a simple white T-shirt and a fluffy skirt.

"I have a skirt, does that count?"

Looking down at herself, Brennan smoothed the wrinkles with her palms, and he took her all in. Her auburn hair was open, waving around her shoulders, and the skirt ended somewhere around her knees, revealing muscular calves and bare feet. She hadn't dressed up, but – the golden evening sun on her skin – to him she looked more female, more beautiful than ever.

"For now it does. Come to me," he said, padding his knees.

Hesitating briefly, she obeyed and took a seat on his lap, her back leaning against his chest. Lifting her easily, he shifted slightly to sit more comfortably, and then he handed her a glass of wine and rested his free hand on her hip.

Balancing her glass and her own weight, Brennan tried to make herself as light as possible, but he simply pulled her down until her head rested on his shoulder, her legs dangling next to his.

"Bread?"

"Yes, please."

He broke a piece of bread off and held it in front of her lips, and once again she hesitated briefly before she took it with her teeth. They were silent for a while, each of them chewing and sipping their wine. He fed her more pieces of bread, and when the sun had turned to a dark shade of red, he refilled their glasses.

Sighing in contentment, he rubbed her bare arm with his palm.

"Cold?"

She shook her head, and her hair tickled his nose.

"Happy?"

This time she nodded, but the tickling sensation was the same.

Running his hand down her side, he drew lazy circles over her belly.

"Yeah, me too. Bones, I was thinking, after buying your dress and exploring the city, maybe we should rent a car and drive to the ocean for a day. There must be a few lovely fishing villages not so far away. What do you say?"

"I still don't understand your odd fixation on the dress, but the rest sounds lovely. Besides, it's highly unlikely that the sea here will greet us with an Irish kind of thunderstorm."

"It has been beautiful somehow. Not as beautiful as you, though."

He could feel that she was holding her breath, and he kissed her ear softly.

"You are beautiful, Bones. Beautiful, funny, lovely, cute. Shall I go on or will you relax again?"

Chuckling, she snuggled deeper into the pillow that was his body.

"Give me time to adjust."

For a moment his easy mood vanished, and he almost crushed her with his arms.

"We don't have time to adjust, Babe. Now or never is everything we have."

Picking up his mood, she gnawed her lip.

"Is this a very bad idea, Booth?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, "maybe in a week we will regret it... But at the moment I take now over never."

"Booth, I will never regret this," she admitted, being small and fragile in his arms.

"Yeah, you're right. And I have to confess, ever since you came up with the therapy idea, I feel nothing but gratitude for Angela and Hodgins."

She giggled.

"When exactly do you think will they realize that it isn't a classic couples counseling but a tantra therapy?"

He joined in her laughter.

"His wife really weighs two-hundred-fifty pounds?"

"Yes, and they are quite detailed in their performance."

"It's a shame that we can't see their faces."

"Indeed. But imagination is your friend."

"Do you think you could turn your head?"

"Yes, why?"

"I want to kiss you."

"Oh..."

"Yes, 'oh'."

The sensation of his lips moving over hers wasn't new anymore, but this was the first time that they didn't need to find an excuse, and with a kitten-like meow she curled her hand around his biceps as he kissed her. He tasted like wine and the beginning of the night.

When they ended the kiss she found back to her former position, and his hand started to play with the hem of her skirt.

"As crazy as it sounded at first, I have to admit your little pocket universe idea has its benefits," he stated, and she took another sip of her wine.

"Indeed. I have to confess that I almost ran out of excuses to be close to you."

"You never needed a single one, Temperance," he answered on a whisper, and the rare sound of her first name in his voice arose goosebumps on her skin.

Noticing it, he grazed them feathery.

"Is this because of me?"

"Yes..."

Feeling slightly embarrassed at the reactions he could cause, she was thankful that he wasn't able to see her glowing cheeks. However, he surprised her again, as he took her left hand, drawing it around her chest to place it over his fast heartbeat.

"You can do it as well."

_Offer up a little bit of yourself every once in a while... _Angela's words traveled back through time, and suddenly Brennan understood their rightness.

Never before had she felt more comfortable around a human being than she did around Booth, never before had a man accepted and read her so easily.

"Thank you..."

"No, thank _you_, Bones. I love how you react to me, it makes me feel really good."

To prove his words, he grazed the back of her knee with his fingernails, slowly running up her thigh. A breathless moan left her lips, and he showered her neck with soft kisses.

"Just like that, Babe..."

Widening her legs within the frame of modesty, she tilted her head to give him better access. Accepting her silent invitation, he licked and nibbled the soft skin behind her ear, and his hand under her skirt traveled even higher. The insides of her thighs felt like velvet, and he took all the time he hadn't possessed when he had touched her like this for the first time.

She squirmed on top of him, and he stilled her with an arm around her waist. When he had explored her thighs to his entire satisfaction, he met the soft cotton barrier of her panties, palming her.

Inhaling a shuddered breath, Brennan fought against a whirlwind of sensations. Her body was in tune with his tentative caresses, knowing exactly what it wanted, but, as always when it came to him, it was more than only a physical experience. He reached corners inside of her nobody had ever touched before. Her whole body was filled with warmth, and she didn't even know if its origin was the spot where his hand rested between her legs or rather her metaphorical heart. And when he started to move his fingers, she forgot to care.

Humming into the flesh of her neck, Booth grazed the triangle of her panties with his fingernails. She gasped, and he did it again. He could feel her short curls under the thin fabric, and it was a tease for him just as much as for her.

"Oh God, I want you," he uttered, and with a whimper she spread her legs even further. This time modesty wasn't a factor anymore.

His second arm left her waist, the hand joining its counterpart under her skirt, but his outstretched arms were still holding her safely. Her head fell back – eyes closed, the night wind on her face – and Booth had never felt so lost and powerful at the same time. He could feel her moisture dampening the cotton of her underwear – because of him! – and he had to slip one hand into her panties. She felt hot to his touch, and he rubbed her gently with the rough pad of his finger.

A gasp, almost a cry, and the force of his own body's reaction to her arousal evoked dizziness in his head. Seconds away from carrying her to their bedroom and burying himself inside of her, he took a deep breath. He had fucked her mindlessly once, he wouldn't do that again. At least not before he wouldn't knew every secret, every reaction of her body.

"Tell me what you like," he demanded gently, but she shook her head, moaning softly as he circled her throbbing center with his finger.

"I believe this is the first time that you refuse to talk about sex," he smiled, but somehow her shyness touched him. It was unexpected.

"I like what you do," she finally managed to say, sounding a little bit out of breath.

It was the truth, she liked what he did to her, everything. The burning fire one simple touch could ignite, the feeling of butterflies in her stomach, the naturalness with which he claimed her body.

"I like what I'm doing," he whispered back. "Everything about you is so beautiful, Temperance."

Kissing the silk of her hair, he resumed the exploration of her body, skimming her entrance with his forefinger while his other hand kneaded the smooth flesh of her inner thighs. She was so soft, so supple under his touch, and he regretted that he couldn't see her face, the look in her eyes.

In front of them blinking lights – probably ships – were dancing on the dark river's surface, and the old town alley underneath them was bathed in the pale yellow of the streetlamps. Clacking footsteps could be heard on the the old cobblestones, but up here, on their balcony, it was only she and him.

He touching her, she being touched by him.

Brennan's whole body was flooded with energy, her center aching with a feeling of emptiness, and when he finally dove one long finger into her body, she inhaled deeply. It was an almost reverent moment, and she could feel liquid heat pooling between her legs.

"Oh..."

"You feel like heaven," he whispered in awe, gently stroking in and out of her.

Desperate for more contact, she turned her head until his cheek touched her forehead.

"Don't stop," she whimpered, and – ever so slowly – he added a second finger to his first one.

She gripped him in the way only a woman could do, and he caressed her as intimately as ever. Pressure was building, slowly and steadily, but he just enjoyed touching her. His own arousal banned to a distant corner of his mind, every single one of his senses was focused on her – the little noises she made, the silky wetness of her private parts, her rich smell lingering in the summery night air.

Her own hands circling his strong arms, she panted fast and heavily, reduced to nothing but feelings. The things he did do her – she couldn't understand them, but she embraced the sensation with everything she had.

His fingers still massaging her inner walls, he brushed his thumb over her sensitive bundle of nerves, while his other hand found her breasts, fondling the firm globes.

She gasped, and he added just a tad more pressure to his touch, his fingernail grazing the hard nipple underneath her shirt.

Then her eyes flew open, taking in the glistening starry sky until the sparkling dots on the firmament blurred with the ones in her mind's eye, and she was falling as her word exploded.

A little cry left her lips, as her body began to convulse around his hand, and deep affection filled his being as he stroked her through her orgasm.

Long after she had stopped squirming he removed his hand, rearranging her clothes, and, lifting her again, he shifted her until she could snuggle into his chest, her cheek on his shoulder, her closed legs on his right side. He cradled her gently in his arms, every once in a while kissing her head.

She didn't dare to speak. Her peak had surprised her with its sweet intensity, and she was helpless against the perfect feeling of rightness that was consuming her. She felt weak, but for the first time in her life, it didn't scare her. He was holding her so tenderly, as if the world hadn't just shattered. As if everything was okay. And maybe it was.

Eventually, she opened her eyes, and blue dizziness met dark passion.

"Hi," she whispered on a smile, and he leaned down, touching her lips in the sweetest kiss ever.

"Hi right back."

"I have to admit you are very skilled."

"I have to admit you are very sexy."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"I didn't do anything, Booth."

Remembering her willing response, her silent surrender, he shook his head.

"Just being you is enough. You want some more wine?"

Once more he took her off guard.

"You don't want to go inside and achieve climax as well?" she asked with wide eyes.

Chuckling, he rubbed his cheek against her soft one.

"You're cute. Yes, I'd like to achieve climax very much," he quoted her with a smug grin, "but right now I'm perfectly happy just sitting here with you. I want to enjoy this for as long as possible."

"O...kay. In this case I'd like to have another glass of wine. I think I might need a brief recovery period."

"Did you see stars, Bones?" he whispered, his mouth close to her ear, and she shivered again.

"Yes," she answered honestly because stars she had seen.

"Good. I'm sorry for fucking you in Paris."

"Why?"

"Because until now I didn't know how soft your thighs are. I can't wait to see you naked and feel every single part of you, Honey."

Honey... She wasn't one for pet names, never had been, but the things he called her... she couldn't despise something that made her feel so cherished.

"You are awfully nice to me."

"I feel a lot of awfully nice things for you."

She went silent for a while, sipping her wine while pleasant warmth was tingling in her body. Suddenly an idea crossed her mind, and her brow furrowed.

"Is this why you wanted me to wear a dress?"

Chuckling, he kissed the wine from her pouting lips.

"No, although I have to admit that the skirt was quite convenient."

Further silence followed, but it was filled with unspoken understanding. Booth could still smell her scent on his fingers, and he tasted the prospect of taking her to bed on his tongue like a good wine. He had always been a generous lover, but never before had he gained so much pleasure from touching a woman.

It was because of her, he knew it. She wasn't just any woman, she was special. She was something he still didn't dare to name, but, whatever it was, he wanted more of it. He lifted her again until she was straddling him, and without warning he took possession of her lips and kissed her. Long and deep. That kind of kiss which went straight to her insides; that kind of kiss that made him pulsate with hard heat.

She moaned into his mouth, and he devoured her ravenously, sucking her lips, licking her tongue, biting her softly. With a gasp she moved backwards, but he simply cupped her head and held her in place until he could reach her again, until she was burning just like him.

Without further delay he got up, taking her with him, and she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, as he carried her inside.

Her head was spinning, but then her back hit the soft mattress of their bed, and he was on top of her, warm and heavy. Embracing him with arms and legs, she attacked his lips mindlessly, and his groans fueled her desire.

Tugging and pulling, she managed to remove his shirt, and his bare chest was pressed to her clothed one, as solid and broad as she remembered it. Her lips moved down his throat to his shoulder, licking and sucking the soft skin, and then his hard nipple was in her mouth, and she ran the raspy length of her tongue over it. She enjoyed the taste of him just as much as the guttural noises he made, and her body began to throb in anticipation.

He gasped, and not so softly he pushed her back onto the mattress, desperate to get rid of as many of her clothes as possible. Her shirt, her skirt, and while he was fighting with the clasp of her bra, she opened the zipper of his jeans, pushing down the garment along with his boxers. Her soaked panties were the last barrier between them, and he removed them as well.

As hasty as their undressing had been, both of them stilled as they were kneeling naked in front of each other. Her skin was so faint, almost translucent in the moonlight, and he had to swallow hard at her unhidden beauty. A dark triangle of short curls covered her most private parts, and the tips of her milky-white breasts were as pink as the palest rose petals ever blossomed. Her lust-clouded eyes shimmered baby blue and bright, her red lips were slightly swollen from his hungry kisses.

He marveled at her plain splendidness, oblivious to the fact that he was studied carefully as well. In her typical thorough manner she let her eyes wander from the size of his shoulders to his pronounced abdominal muscles, following the narrow path of dark hair which led to his manhood. It was hard for her, towering proud between his legs, dark in the dim light.

Breathing deep against the primeval arousal that threatened to get the best of her, Brennan lifted her head again to meet his eyes, and everything she felt was mirrored back at her.

"Oh, Booth... I want this, I want this so badly."

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he answered, his voice raw with honesty.

"No," she shook her head, "that would be you, Booth."

"Oh, Babe..."

And with a shy smile she closed the distance between them, reaching out her hands to touch him. Taking him into both palms, she admired the perfect combination of velvet and steel, and he growled deep in his throat, as she squeezed him experimentally. Satisfied with the result, she repeated her ministrations, and touching him made her wet again. Ready for him.

Licking her lips, she looked up at him, and the wish to feel him as close as possible overwhelmed her.

"Booth, I cannot wait..."

He lowered his head in awe, kissing the peaks of her full breasts, rubbing his lips over the taut buds.

"I want you as well," he finally answered, "so much... Do you... do you want to be on top?"

Part of him assumed that it would be easier for her this way, but she simply shook her head.

"I want whatever you want."

Wrapping her into his arms – both of them had to gasp at the intense contact of skin to skin – he guided her backwards until her head rested comfortably on the pillow. In silent agreement she opened her legs for him, and his hand dove between her thighs, surprised to find her already wet.

Burrowing his head in her hair, he took a shuddered breath right before he aligned himself, right before he entered her.

And then they were one.

A content sigh left her lips, and he fought against the dizziness of bliss. Her fingernails grazed his back in a gesture full of tenderness, and her intimate heat was warming him; warming him until he couldn't tell anymore which part belonged to her and which to him.

"You... fine?" he managed to utter, and she nodded wildly, laughing with breathless delight.

"Yes, oh, yes."

Squeezing her inner muscles, she pulled him in even deeper, and he moaned, helpless against the sensation that was feeling her.

With a tiny shift of his pelvis he rocked into her. It felt even better, and he did it again. With her arms around his back, his arms under her shoulder and his face in her hair, he couldn't move that fast, but his strokes were perfect and filled her completely.

She felt her body opening for him, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, deepening the angle.

Tiny glistening sweat drops appeared on his forehead as he tried to delay his climax, but she simply brushed them away with her palm and turned his head until she could kiss him again.

"Don't hold back, Booth. Just do whatever you want."

And with a grunt he sunk into her mouth as his pelvis rocked without rhythm into her, over and over again. Her back arched, and he hugged her even tighter, clinging to her body with desperate force. Their bellies were damp with sweat where they were gliding over each other, and although he was dominating her completely, Brennan had never felt so free.

Bracing on his forearms, he changed their angle once more, and when he was towering above her like a statue portraying the aesthetic beauty of eroticism, his gaze never let go of her, penetrating her just as deep as his body.

A feral groan escaped his lips, and his features were almost painfully twisted while his eyes got darker and darker until he erupted forcefully inside of her. Liquid heat was shooting into her body, as he emptied himself into her, and – being a witness of his ecstasy – her belly started to clench deeply. Long and steady contractions waved through her, and now it was his turn to be mesmerized by the glow and awe on her face, as she came apart around him.

And their pocket universe was capturing them as it turned into the universe itself, and they fell out of it and back in.

-BONES-

Facing each other in the darkness, their hands interlaced on the mattress between them, Booth and Brennan tried to grasp the ridiculous magnitude of the connection they had just felt. What do you say after an experience like that? Is there anything?

Suddenly occupying the same space didn't sound so impossible anymore, Brennan mused as she could feel the combination of his seed and her own fluids dripping out of her. Under different circumstances it would have felt uncomfortably, but right here, right now she enjoyed the palpable knowledge that a part of him was still inside of her.

She had wanted him like she had never wanted anybody else before, and despite her satisfaction, she still wanted him. It seemed as if this craving for him could impossibly be stilled.

Tracing the contours of her dear face with a loving gaze, Booth felt as if he had lost a piece of himself inside of her. It was irrational and mushy, but looking at her in the afterglow of their... yes, lovemaking, she was still his Bones but so much more.

For the love of God, he was falling, and for the fraction of a moment he feared the impact that would be the end of their vacation. Pushing the moment away, he reached out to her and drew her gracious body into his arms. She came willingly, and he turned her around until he could spoon her from behind, one hand splayed over her belly, the other one cupping a breast. Kissing her neck tenderly, he whispered into her ear,

"Thank you..."

Blinking against the sudden moisture in her eyes, she took his hand into her smaller one and kissed it, feeling vulnerable but so full.

"Hold me..."

And holding her he did, his strong body enveloping her completely, his skin warming her. He cradled her until the wings of the nightingale took over, lifting both of them into the oblivion of sleep – in a magic night far away in Portugal, while somewhere down the street a guitar was caressing the darkness.

-BONES-

She awoke to something tickling her face. Groaning, she wrinkled her nose, and the sound of pearling laughter invaded her dreams. His one.

"Hey, Babe, wake up, just a little bit."

Cracking an eye open, she found him kneeling in front of the bed. The room was touched into the harbingers of light, his face still blurry in her sleep-clouded vision.

"Booth, I'm sleeping," she protested, but he tugged her hand.

"No, you're talking, and since you don't talk in sleep, you're pretty much awake. Please, you have to get up."

"Why should I?"

"Sunrise, Babe, you don't wanna miss it."

Wrapping her sleep-warm body into the white sheet, he simply pulled her out of the bed and to the window. She blinked, once, twice, and then her eyes focused on the age-old shape of the sun rising out of the water. Of course, it didn't really come out of the deep blue, but for a moment she could actually believe it as the natural beauty of the day waking up sunk into her brain.

"Oh..."

Her rosy lips formed the quiet word, and he looked at her affectionately.

"Yeah."

Two birds were circling the sky, their cries greeting the new morning, and no cloud disturbed the entrance of the sun, demanding its place on the firmament. In a distant corner the pale shape of the moon could still be seen, but soon the orb of the night bowed its head, accepting defeat.

The old rooftops of the city shimmered warm in the golden light of dawn, and mist was soaring out of the water, mingling with the sunrays on the horizon.

It was a new day.

Turning around to the man next to her, Brennan gave him an unguarded smile; the contrast of her dark tousled hair and the white shade of the sheet being somehow heart-crushing.

"That was beautiful," she admitted.

Nodding, he reached out to her, pulling her into his arms, and for the first time she noticed that he was gloriously naked. Her mouth went dry, and, leaning her cheek against his bare chest, she inhaled the musky scent of his skin.

His hands tunneled in her hair, he played with the soft strands, humming in contentment.

"What now?" she asked after a while.

"Bed?" he suggested since it was still awfully early.

With a nod she followed him back to bed, almost shyly rearranging the sheet for him to slide under it. Her head facing away from him, she lay on her stomach, and he tugged at the covers to expose her bare back. He could count the vertebrae on her spine, and, reaching out his hand, he traced the elegant curve with his palm, warmth streaming from his skin into her body.

With a deep breath, she shifted her head until her eyes met his. He never stopped caressing her, and it was so intimate that she felt more vulnerable than ever. Booth didn't seem to expect anything, though, he looked as if he was just touching her because he could.

Alternating between grazing her softly with his fingernails, rubbing her with his flat palm and kneading the taut muscles of her shoulder, he became familiar with this part of her body. It was a pretty back, he decided, and even though he disapproved of the knots of tension he found here and there, the beauty of her structure didn't go by unnoticed.

She was watching him carefully, and in his handsome face she found something she knew too well. He was studying her with the same thoroughness she reserved for bones.

"You want a microscope," she finally asked, her voice being somewhere between playful and insecure.

"No," he answered with a little smile, "I already see everything I wanna know."

She was only inches away, and he enjoyed her proximity more than he should, but how could he be immune to the sight of her so uncovered, so soft? He could see the swell of her breasts were she was lying on her chest, and despite her nudity, despite the fact that she still smelled like him, she stirred more than only one part of him.

This... this was how he wanted to remember her for the rest of his life.

He was in awe, and she could see it in his eyes. It was ridiculous to assume that someone's feelings are actually visible in the eyes, but today Brennan was willing to accept the ridiculousness of it because he was looking at her, and she felt a million different things.

Gratitude... gratitude that somebody – granted, Angela – had given them the opportunity to be together like this. Acceptance... acceptance because she knew that he would do anything for her just like she would do anything for him. Weakness... weakness because having so much contained the risk to lose just as much.

And underneath all of it there lingered desire, desire to possess his body and so much more.

While a loud thunderstorm of conflicting emotions whirled inside of her, she lay as motionless as possible, her body reduced to the circles he drew on her back, until the steady movement pulled her back under the surface of sleep.

And still he was touching her.

-BONES-

When they awoke the next time, the sun was hanging full and proud on the sky, and noises on the street indicated that the city of Lisbon was awake as well. Stretching herself thoroughly, Brennan lolled in bed, and Booth watched her in amusement.

"I believe you should make coffee and bring it to bed," she stated after a while, and he laughed.

"Why should I?"

"Because I could be very grateful," she answered, rolling onto her side and looking at him under heavy-lidded eyes.

"Are you using you seduction power to get a cup of coffee?"

"Does it work?"

His eyes followed the shape of her body, and finally he groaned, getting up.

"Yes. But this time I'll take the sheet."

She squealed adorably, as he stole the covers and wrapped them around his bare skin, but then the sight of her took his breath away. Never before had he seen her naked in the light of a fresh morning, and her pale skin on the white sheet was almost too much to bear. For an instant she tried to cover herself, but then she accepted the situation and recognized her advance, as his eyes widened.

Leaning back, she led her hands glide down her sides, her toes curling.

"You like?" she teased, but then her own breath was stolen as his dark eyes captured hers.

"You know I do," he rasped, and, tearing his gaze away from her violently, he padded into the kitchen, leaving her behind with tingling skin.

When he came back with two steamy mugs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee in the air, she had regained her composure, and thankfully she accepted her mug, taking a first cautious sip. It was good and strong.

The mattress shifted as he joined her on the bed.

Outstretching her hand, she tried to grab a corner of the sheet, but he kept it wrapped around his body, shaking his head.

"Nope, Babe, my reward for making coffee is looking at you."

Furrowing her brow, she regarded him with serious eyes.

"You want me to sit naked in front of you while I drink my coffee?"

"Yes," he answered equally seriously, and while he took a sip of his own beverage, he decided that he had been wrong earlier because _this_ was how he wanted to remember her.

Gazes were exchanges as they shared their drinks, and after a while she relaxed, even enjoyed his eyes caressing her.

When her mug was empty, she turned to him. He tasted like coffee and intimacy, and she knew that never in her life she would forget this kiss.

-BONES-

They dove into Lisbon with the joy of kids exploring a carnival. They took the famous streetcar No. 28, and the little yellow carts went up and down the hills and narrow lanes. The windows were open, her hair fluttering in the wind, and her childlike laughter mingled with the jadder of the old vehicle.

Downtown they roamed Augusta street, and in one of the countless little shops they bought a dress for her. It was simple, floral-printed, and the lace-trimmed hem waved around her knees. Booth watched her in awe as she stepped out of the changing room, showing his approval with a nod and a smile. He had never liked shopping with a woman before – hey, he was a man – but he enjoyed doing all these ordinary things with her. He insisted on paying for the dress, and when they dove into the hurly-burly of the streets again, he interlaced his fingers with hers. Just because.

They made a break next to the Tejo river, their bare feet dangling in the water, and they took one of the elevators which connected the higher districts of the city with its lower parts. They visited the historic ruins of the Carmo Convent, sharing a kiss in the quiet patio, only the majestic arcs of the former roof between them and the blue sky.

There was a special charm surrounding the city of Lisbon, and maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the fact that he could touch her whenever he wanted, but life felt easier somehow.

In the late afternoon they took the streetcar again, and it brought them all the way uphill to the highest place of the city, the Castle of Lisbon. Almost reverent silence filled the thick walls, only interrupted by the cry of a peacock calling for its mate every now and then. When neither of them couldn't walk anymore, they sat down on one of the murals, simply enjoying each other and the view.

The houses underneath them looked like out of a toy town, and on the right side the 25th of April Bridge hung over the river. It seemed to be the lost twin of San Francisco's famous Golden Gate Bridge, and the red color of the magnificent construction shimmered warm in the evening light. The air smelled like spices, and knobby old trees whispered in the wind.

The pale yellow globe of the sun was touching a faraway hill on the horizon, and Brennan found just the same mesmerizing light on his face. Little golden spots were dancing in his brown eyes, his smile as kind as the October breeze. Taking her camera out of her purse, she took a picture of him. Even though she doubted she could ever forget the way he looked right now, she thought a physical reminder wouldn't do any harm. Registering the zooming sound of her camera, he turned his face and outstretched his hand.

"I want one of you as well."

Ten minutes later she felt like a mannequin, and he had gotten more than only one shot of her, but he didn't believe that a simple picture could capture her natural beauty. Behind them he heard a discrete harrumph, and an old woman was smiling at them, asking in broken English if she should take a picture of him and his wife together.

Neither of them bothered to correct the friendly lady, and Brennan snuggled into his open arms as the sight of them being so happy, being so carefree was recorded for eternity.

The old lady felt a tug at her heartstrings as she pushed the release button. There was something beautiful about love on a warm day of autumn, and she remembered the thirty-two years of her own marriage. This had been their favorite place, and right before her husband had died, she had to promise him to cherish the good memories and not the grief in the end. This young couple reminded her of something she would never forget, and she felt hope at the pure adoration on the man's face, warmth at the trustful manner in which the woman curled into his side.

Mumbling something in Portuguese, the elderly woman gave the camera back to the couple, leaning on her cane to enjoy the view of the city that had been the stage of her own life, of her own love.

Oblivious to her, Booth and Brennan had left the wall, and the last rays of sunlight were in their wake as they descended the hill. The maze of the narrow streets was vibrating with life and laughter, and, following the demand of their growling stomachs, they took a seat outside of a tiny restaurant.

Colorful lanterns were hanging in the tree above them, illuminating the late evening, and the dorade on his plate looked as delicious as the grilled vegetables on her own. The wine that accompanied their meal was white and cold, and both of them savored the heart-warming food.

Conversation was flowing easily between the two of them, after all, they had just spent a perfect day together, and the anecdotes he mentioned were some she remembered fondly; the architecture she gushed about he had seen as well. Common ground... despite their differences it was something Booth and Brennan had always possessed, but this mild Lisbon night found them walking on another kind of common ground, one that wasn't based on work or friendship but one that was made out of fun, laughter and a thousand little touches.

These days they weren't Booth and Brennan, partners, crime-fighters, they were just a man and a woman walking down a road together without aiming for a certain purpose, without thinking about a destination.

Their little pocket universe, their time-out from being them was liberating somehow, and their togetherness was overwhelming in its simplicity – in a strange, but very good way.

After dinner they walked back to their apartment hand in hand, and in a dark corner – warm cobblestones underneath their feet – he spun her around and kissed her, tasting wine, spices and her. Responding without hesitation, Brennan pushed him backwards until his shoulders touched the rough surface of the house. Her body flush to his, she slipped her tongue between his lips, dueling with his one for dominance. Growling deep in his throat, Booth tangled his hands in her silky hair, and his pelvis ground against hers.

Friction was building, between the fabric of their clothes just as much as deep down in their bellies, and Brennan cupped his buttocks in a possessive gesture, kneading the firm muscles. She could feel his swelling hardness pressing against her thigh, and moisture was streaming straight to her core. There was an ache inside of her, deep and fundamental, and she put all her longing, all her desire into one kiss.

He could taste it, everything she wanted, everything she needed, and his hand left her hair and ran down her body to find the softness of her breasts. Squeezing and teasing, he elicited a moan from her, and the tiny sound went right to his groin.

Suddenly there were voices just around the corner, talking in a foreign language, and they jumped apart hastily. In the dim light of the streetlamps he could see the arousal in her eyes and the rosy flush on her high cheekbones. With chests heaving under fast breaths, Booth and Brennan looked at each other like spellbound.

Wordlessly he took her hand, and as fast as the shortage of space in his pants would allow, he dragged her in the direction of their apartment. She followed him with dizziness in her head and a giggle on her lips.

It wasn't far and too far at the same time, but within minutes they pulled and pushed each other up their steep wooden stairs, kissing and sucking every inch of skin that was in reach. Fumbling with the keys, Booth groaned as her deft fingers opened his belt buckle and dove into his boxers from behind, immediately gripping the firm length. She moaned into his shoulder blade, and the arousing sound was followed by a sharp pain, as she buried her teeth in his shirt-covered skin.

Finally the door opened, and they stumbled into the dark apartment as a tangle of limbs and desire. The kitchen happened to be the room next to the entrance, and he pushed her into it, opening her pants and lowering them in one instant. The flimsy fabric of her panties went down as well, and, kicking away her ballerinas, Brennan let him lift her onto the kitchen counter. Her hand found its way back into his boxers, and while she massaged him until his eyeballs rolled around in lustful pleasure, he opened her blouse with a not so gentle tug.

The buttons made tiny sounds as they danced over the wooden floor, but neither of them cared.

Lowering his head, he sucked her bra-clad nipple into his mouth while his fingers dove between her thighs, entering her slick heat without preamble. Her head fell back on a gasp, and he sucked even harder, her moisture dampening his fingers, her nipple budding on his tongue.

Her own thumb was circling the plump head of his throbbing arousal, spreading his fluid of anticipation all over him, and when he released her breast with a loud plop, their kiss was hot and steamy. Hooking her fingers into the waistband of his underwear, she pulled the piece of garment down, pumping his shaft once more and guiding him to her entrance.

Removing his fingers, he looked at her with a cocky grin before he took them into his mouth, tasting her very private flavor. She watched him with wide eyes, and her inner muscles clenched briefly in response to his gesture.

"You taste wonderful," he murmured close to her lips, his hot breath on her face, and then the time for teasing was over as he plunged into her with one long stroke. Buried to the hilt, he stilled for a moment, adjusting to the overwhelming sensation of her silky walls gripping him in an age-old embrace.

Her breath hitched, as she wrapped her arms around his chest, and, digging the half-moons of her fingernails into his back, she encouraged him to move. And move he did. Skipping tentative and gentle, he thrust into her with full force, his firm length rubbing her in the most pleasant way ever.

"Yes," she panted, and his mouth on her throat, he sucked right over the pulsating rhythm of her heartbeat.

Squeezing her vaginal muscles – thank God for yoga – she drove him crazy with even more slick heat clutching him, and he grabbed her buttocks to stroke her deeper and harder.

Brennan found herself on the brink faster than ever before, and, refusing to fall alone, she slipped her hand between their bodies and cupped the weight of his heavy balls.

"Shit," he gasped, as she tugged gently, smiling wickedly into his neck. Using her five fingers, she massaged him mercilessly, and his rhythm which had never possessed that much control in the first place, lost every last ounce of it.

"Stop, Babe," he uttered between pressed teeth, "or this will be over soon."

Her teeth grazing his earlobe, she whispered huskily,

"I want you to come."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Booth began to shiver and lost it completely, lost himself in her body, as he gave her what she wanted. Holding him tight, Brennan felt him exploding inside of her, and his release triggered her own. Inhaling a shuddered breath, she was helpless against her walls clenching in a primeval rhythm, and somewhere deep inside of her a part of him mingled with a part of her.

In the aftermath of frenzy their lips found each other anew, gentler this time, and satisfaction met something else as his tongue slid against hers in a kiss of lovers.

-BONES-

The window was open, letting the velvety night air in, as Booth and Brennan lay naked on top of their covers. His head rested on her chest, and her hand drew feather-light patterns over his back. She could feel his sated cock on her thigh, and witnessing this truly impressive part of his anatomy in its soft state touched her unexpectedly.

They had shared a shower after the passionate encounter in the kitchen, and he had lathered her body, washed her hair with infinite care. His hands which had set her ablaze only half an hour earlier had been so gentle. To be even, she had soaped him as well – not that she hadn't enjoyed the smooth bronze of his skin under her fingers. To share a shower wasn't practical at all – saving water left out of account – but it had been nice. The atmosphere had been quiet and soft, just as peaceful as it was right now with him listening to her heartbeat and with her letting him do so.

Her dark hair was curling damp around her face, smelling just like his.

Just because she could, Brennan let her free hand wander lower until his sated member was in her palm. She caressed it gently, and suddenly she felt inexplicable tenderness for this intimate moment.

A tiny sigh left his kiss-swollen lips, and he snuggled his head deeper into her chest.

"I don't know if I'm already up for more, Babe."

Kissing his hair, she continued her light caresses.

"I don't care, I just want to touch you."

And it was the truth. Surprising herself, Brennan found out that she wanted to become familiar with his body in a way that went way deeper than just carnal pleasure. She simply enjoyed feeling him, and she wanted him to like it as well. She had always been kind of selfish when it came to sex, but with Booth everything was different somehow. The wish to give was more urgent than the need to take, and it was almost ironic that never before she had gotten that much right back.

Exchanging her chest for a pillow, she gave his nose a quick peck before sliding down his body. Her mouth watered at the sight of his member lying content in front of her. That was new as well.

Her lips opened with a smile, and she took him into her mouth, her tongue traveling over the thin skin and the smoothness underneath. It was... almost delicious.

He moaned her name, well, not really her name but one of the countless pet names which had become her name just as much as "Temperance", "Dr. Brennan" or "Bones", and she sucked him gently.

His shaft started to grow in her mouth and thrust on its own volition, hitting her palatal. Using her lips to squeeze him and her tongue to tease him, Brennan reveled in the knowledge that she was the reason for his ragged breath, for his swelling arousal.

Soon he was long and firm, and she had trouble to take more than the thick head of him into her mouth. Remembering her hand, she wrapped it around his base as she continued to suck and lick the hot flesh.

Incoherent noises came out of his chest, maybe words of encouragement, maybe endearments, maybe nothing reasonable at all, but she enjoyed the sound of his voice caressing her like a sweet wave.

Doubling her effort, she finally aimed for pleasuring him in earnest, and it didn't take long until his hips buckled, and with a cry that was meant as a warning he spilled into her mouth. She didn't let go of him for a second, taking everything he had to give, and when his tremors subsided, she licked her lips and crawled upwards like a cat which had just caught the goldfish. Or something like that.

His eyes were closed, his mouth open, his forehead covered with a sheen of sweat, and with her heart full of something, Brennan wrapped the blanket around him and herself, taking him into her arms. He thanked her with a sweet kiss, and she stopped his traveling hand.

"No, Booth, you don't have to. This was for you to enjoy."

"It doesn't seem fair," he murmured, his palm cupping her hip languidly, and she brushed her lips over his cheek.

"More than fair."

"Kay," he whispered sleepily, his eyelids fluttering like a hummingbird's wing. "Sleep tight, my love."

His breath evened out, but her hands froze as her eyes flew open in the darkness. _My love_... Never before had he called her like that, and her chest ached strangely. It couldn't be love, it wasn't meant to be something that big. However, as sleepiness invaded her limbs with heavy warmth, a tiny voice inside of her asked on a whisper, 'And what was it meant to be?'

-BONES-

The next morning greeted them with just the same blue sky, just the same warm sun, and they rented a car to explore the area surrounding the proud capital of Portugal.

He was driving, of course, but not without a fight. She was wearing the new dress, and every now and then his eyes flickered to her, taking in her summer-like beauty. Sunglasses on her nose, her hair in a ponytail, she looked young and carefree, her lips curved into an ever-present smile.

He sang along to the tunes in the radio, more enthusiastic than skillful, and she wanted to say something to him which would do the moment justice, but she didn't know what.

Their first stop was Belém, and they marveled at the famous beauty of the Tower of Belém and the Jerónimus Monastery. You couldn't go on vacation with Dr. Temperance Brennan and _not_ visit World Heritage Sites, Booth mused, but even he enjoyed it more than he would probably admit.

When they resumed their road trip, the landscape got rougher, and soon they were driving next to the vastness of the Atlantic ocean. The wide green-blue sea was dotted with foam wherever a wave had crashed against hidden rocks, and a tangy scent of salt was in the air. The beauty of the coastline was mighty, and they bypassed a few little village before they stopped in Ericeira.

It seemed as if the whole town was painted in white and navy blue, only the warm, rusty red of the roofs standing out. Ericeira towered high above the waterline, and when they descended the uneven stairs, the beach was empty except for a few brave surfers.

Even though the weather was still warm, it was too cold to swim, but they took a seat on a sunbathed rock close to the crashing waves. Opening their enormous bag, Brennan unpacked a blanket, water bottles and sun protection. After he had covered the stone with the blanket, Booth gestured for her to sit and took the lotion out of her hands. Warming a generous amount of the creamy fluid in his palm, he applied it carefully on her exposed milky-white skin. She was soft and warm under his touch, and he memorized the tiny, fluffy hairs on her arms just like the elegant curve of her neck.

Tomorrow... tomorrow they would go back to D.C., and everything would be over, leaving him alone with nothing but memories. Pushing the sudden sadness away, Booth placed a gentle kiss on her greasy shoulder and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret it because the last two weeks had been plain wonderful. And as for now... she was in his arms.

He had prepared sandwiches for them, and a small bottle of Sagres beer completed their meal. It was simple and good – aside from the sand between their teeth.

The crashing sound of the Atlantic was so loud that they could hardly talk, but neither of them minded the wordless silence. They had always been able to have a whole conversation with one gaze, and today he could even hug and kiss her.

Her hair smelled like sun and the ocean, and tiny freckles appeared on her sun-kissed nose. The hem of her holiday dress fluttered in the wind, revealing the creamy skin of her thighs every now and then, and he caressed the familiar territory softly.

Leaning against his solid chest, Brennan played with the phalanges of his left hand. Tonight would be their last night together, and her throat tightened at the thought. To never kiss him again, to never sleep with his heartbeat close to hers. To never fall over the edge with him again.

What had started as comfort and desire had led to something she hadn't expected, but how could they take it back home? It was so easy here where nobody knew them, where the parameters of their everyday life didn't mean anything. But back home? How could she continue kissing him at home?

And would he even want it? After all, she was so unlike the women he had dated before... No, she couldn't risk losing him as her partner, as her friend, and it would be simply too dangerous without the safety net of their vacation.

Wistfulness clouded the sky, and when goosebumps appeared on her bare arms, they left their place on the rock and took a walk along the beach, damp sand and cold waves around their feet. He carried their bag over one shoulder, and his other arm was slung around her waist. Every once in a while he placed a kiss on top of her wind-tousled hair, and each time she flashed him a smile.

With bare feet she was smaller than usually, and when he stopped to embrace her, her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck like a perfect fit. Everything was just damn perfect, so perfect that it hurt.

The little shell she found was perfect, the salty taste of the Atlantic on his tongue was perfect, and when they mounted the stairs, a perfect little fair awaited them on the street above the beach. The cotton candy she bought was perfect, the way her rosy tongue darted out to lick the sticky sweetness from her skin was perfect as well, and when she offered him something of the fluffy treat with her fingers – well, more than perfect.

Perfection followed them back to Lisbon, sat between them as they ate dinner in a small restaurant, mingled with the melancholic sound of the Fado.

Perfection lingered in the door frame as they undressed each other, caressing her elegant curves and his solid strength. And when their mouths met in an almost desperate kiss, perfection vanished with a last smile, unable to compete with something so utterly beautiful...

Placing her on the mattress, Booth kissed and licked every inch of smooth skin he found. She tasted like the ocean and a day full of summer. She tasted like _his_. Her slender body squirmed underneath his caresses, and he kissed a burning path down her belly until his head came to a halt between her parted legs.

Blowing cool air over her exposed flesh, Booth enjoyed the silent shivers that rippled through her body, and, with a deep breath, he lowered his head to caress her. Tentatively at first, but soon the sensation of his lips and tongue kissing her so intimately overwhelmed him somehow, and he sucked bolder, the tip of his tongue skimming her entrance, grazing her clit.

She gasped, and, using both hands, he opened her further to his ministrations. Her flavor was almost as rich as the salt of the sea itself, and she was so soft, so slick that he had to plunge his tongue as deep as possible into her.

Her body shook violently, and he registered a distant pain in his scalp as she tugged at his hair. Looking up at her, he found her cheeks flushed and her eyes darker than he had ever seen them.

"Booth," she panted, "I can't. Not like this..."

His thumb grazing her swollen little nub, he held her gaze.

"What do you mean, Babe?" he whispered, and an almost desperate expression washed over her features.

"I cannot _come_... not like _this_..."

And his heart softened as he fell into her and out of her again, something inside of him exploding with mighty tenderness. Entering her with his finger, he searched for her hand with his free one, and she clutched him hard.

"Temperance... this is just me."

His voice was low and affectionate, his eyes brown and reassuring.

"But this is _me_ as well," she tried to reason, and he showered her belly with feathery kisses.

"Yes, Babe, _you_ who let me touch you on the balcony, _you_ who wore that dress for me, _you_ who kiss me every morning before you're even fully awake. I know you. I trust you. Trust me as well, please. It's just me."

She whimpered but nodded in defeat, and when he moved back between her legs, his hand never let go of hers. Then he licked her. And every flicker of his tongue was a day full of sunshine, every suction of his lips was an autumn night's dream in his arms. Every touch was a new street they had discovered together, and when darkness overwhelmed her, every little something they had and were blurred, zooming in on the explosion of fire he had created between her legs.

Before she could breathe again, before she could think again he was over her, inside of her, and she clung to him with everything she had. She found herself on his tongue, and something in her belly tingled at the discovery.

He was everywhere. Every single cell inside of her was vibrating, and when he continued to slide in and out of her, she wanted this memory to last forever. She wanted for him to never forget it, her, them, and, holding onto him, she turned them around with every ounce of strength she possessed until he was lying underneath her.

Regarding her in surprise, Booth reached out for her breasts and lifted his head to bite into her shoulder. He was marking her, and she sighed at the realization. Supporting his head to hold him in place, she rotated her pelvis to take him in deeper, squeezing and riding him until he cried out, his back arching with force, his seed shooting into her.

His beautiful face was twisted in sweet agony, and she cupped his stubbly cheek with her shaking hand, moisture prickling behind her eyelids.

He was so beautiful, so wonderful, and now she knew. From now on she would see him every day, and she would know it. How great it could be, how great they could be.

When he opened his eyes, Booth choked on his words at the raw emotions on her face, and he had to swallow hard.

"The last time," she whispered, and something cut into his soul.

"No!"

With tears in his eyes he pulled her into his arms, rocking, cradling, kissing her.

"We still have hours, Temperance, _hours_..."

-BONES-

Yes, they had hours, but with every moan the hands of the clock moved forward, with every caress another minute had gone by. With every kiss the moon had taken one more step, with every powerful embrace dawn came closer.

And then the first rays of the pale sun crept into the sanctuary of their room, and with the speed of light their pocket universe crashed into reality, shattering into a million bits and bobs.

It was over.

-BONES-

Meanwhile in D.C...

"Oh my God..."

Their faces were pale as Angela Montenegro and Jack Hodgins stormed out of a therapist's office in downtown D.C.

"Tantra _can_ be such a beautiful thing..."

"I don't know if I can ever touch you again, Angie."

"I think she actually ejaculated."

"No, no," he sang desperately, covering his ears, "don't mention it."

"I think I need a shower."

"Me too. Separate showers, though. Your best friend is a very mean person."

While she nodded vehemently, a little voice giggled inside of her head, reminding her that Temperance Brennan had – after all – learned from the best.

To be continued...

_Come on, you know me. I never write without happy end. _


	6. Washington DC II

VI. Washington D.C.

Exhaustion took a toll as they boarded the plane that would bring them back to Washington D.C.; back home, back to the way they had been. As soon as they had reached their travel height, Brennan fell asleep, and, like it had learned to do, her body gravitated towards his warmth.

Booth watched her with a heavy heart. Her long lashes cast shadows on her rosy cheeks, the cute nose sporting a mild sunburn from their day at the beach. Soon it would fade...

Tempted to curl his arm around her shoulder, he clutched the magazine in his hand. Back to not holding her would be hard. Suddenly an idea crossed his mind... They had never discussed when exactly their time-out would end, and so far they hadn't touched D.C., they were still in no-man's-land.

With a wistful smile he discarded the magazine and reached out to her, pulling her head into the crook of his neck. Mumbling in sleep, Brennan nuzzled her face into the soft fabric of his shirt, and he stroked her silky hair with his big palm, placing a tender kiss on top of her head.

Last night he had loved her – her body, her soul, anything. But he had agreed on her conditions, and their limited period of time was over. Had he still been a gambler, maybe he'd pushed her, but the man he was today couldn't take a chance on her. She was too important, he couldn't lose her.

With a sigh he closed his eyes, resting his head on top of hers, and fell into light slumber.

Minutes or hours later she stirred, and instantly he was awake, looking into the drowsy blue of her eyes, and right before her brain switched on, there was no guard, no distance in her gaze. Then Brennan had caught up with reality and she straightened her back to gain some space.

"Sorry," she murmured, but he reached out to squeeze her hand.

"It doesn't count, we're not home, yet," he answered, his eyes almost pleading.

Although every reasonable part of her knew that touching him right now would make things even harder in the end, somehow the signal didn't make its way to her hand, and on their own volition her fingers interlaced with his, feeling their connection for a few more moments, however stolen they were.

"I'm so tired, Booth."

Chuckling, he grazed her knuckles with his thumb.

"We barely slept last night."

"It was... _wonderful_," she admitted on a whisper, and he nodded solemnly.

"Best night of my life."

"When will we land in D.C.?"

"Half past four in the afternoon. Local time."

Local time... It would be their time then, but Booth couldn't bring the words past his lips. Their time was wine on a balcony while the Portuguese night wind was whispering, their time was the watery skyline of Venice, Paris' enchanted air and the vast green of Ireland. Their time... hand gone by.

"Booth..."

She paused, unsure how he would react to her request.

"Yeah, Honey?"

The word was soft, and her heart clenched as she decided to let him have this one. To let herself have it as well.

"I know that this was never meant to last, and that there are no," furrowing her brow, she tried to remember Angela's word, "strings. However, I want you to know that I won't seek male company until we haven't adjusted to our normal life again. I assume that will make it easier to deal with what has happened and find back to normality."

She couldn't bring herself to ask the same from him, but, as always, he understood her.

"Me neither..."

The idea of kissing and touching another woman sounded ridiculous, and thinking about a stranger doing this to Brennan made him almost nauseous. Yes, time to adjust was good.

Silence settled over them as the plane cut into the clouds, but their hands never let go of each other, and like this they traveled mile after mile. Tears were pooling in her eyes as they started their final descent, and when she turned to him, Brennan found his brown orbs shimmering damp as well.

With a silent cry she threw herself into his arms, and it took him less than a heartbeat to catch her and find her mouth. Their kiss was full of warm sadness as tongues and lips said goodbye to each other, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her back, memorizing the feeling of holding her like this for eternity.

"Booth..."

Her big blue eyes pleaded him to do something, to shoo the pain away, and he cupped her hot cheek, leaning his forehead against hers.

"We will be okay, Temperance, we'll find a solution."

"Promise..."

"I promise. Everything will be alright."

With a jerk the plane made contact with the runway, and the clapping noise around them was reduced to a distant roar, as he let go of her with almost physical pain.

They were back home.

-BONES-

Two hours later Booth opened the door of his apartment, and the place he called home looked foreign somehow. Unable to withstand the silence, he turned the radio on and threw his suitcase into one corner. He couldn't deal with it right now. His body told him that it was much later than only 6.30 pm, and he grabbed a cool beer from the fridge and plopped onto his couch. Bones-less for the first time in two weeks.

Drowning his misery in a bottle of beer was a futile attempt, though, and after a while he got up to take a shower. Feeling as if travel dust was stuck to his whole body, he undressed himself and stepped under the spraying water.

Just like his apartment his body felt different somehow. It wasn't only his body anymore, now it was flesh she had kissed, and it seemed as if the shape of her gracious curves was engraved into the lines of his palm, as if he could still see her pale skin close to his darker one.

There was nothing that could lighten his mood, soothe his pain, and not long after finishing his shower, Booth decided to go to bed. Maybe the light of a new morning could put things into perspective again. Maybe tomorrow he wouldn't miss her so terribly.

His bed... it was way too big. The pillows next to him seemed to cry into the silence, and the only warmth was his own. Not enough. Nowhere near enough...

-BONES-

In another part of the town a beautiful woman fought a similar battle. Unlike her partner Temperance Brennan didn't delay unpacking, but the scent of sunshine in her laundry only heightened her wistfulness. For all her life she had been good at compartmentalizing, but today she failed. Miserably.

Taking her new dress, the one he had bought for her, she caressed the light and soft material with her fingertips. Had it only been yesterday that she had worn it for the first and last time? Twenty-four little hours had turned her whole world upside down, and, sitting in her quiet apartment, she wondered somehow if the dress would still fit. If she was still the person he had chosen it for.

Her apartment seemed to be bigger than ever, and she felt cold, so very cold. It was the kind of coldness that only his embrace would be able to banish, and she knew it, even though the rational part of her rolled its eyes at the sentimental realization.

She took a long bath, and in a vain attempt to silence her crying body, she rubbed herself harder than ever with her washcloth. It didn't help either. Rebuilding the walls around her, yes, _heart_ was more difficult than expected, and when she found herself in her bed later that night, she felt lonely, so lonely.

After two weeks of sleeping in his arms, she was lost alone in her big bed, drowning in a sea of pillows. The first sob came without warning, and when Brennan was crying herself to sleep, nobody was there to see it, nobody around to hold her, to comfort her.

Because he wasn't there anymore.

They were back home, and back home being alone was reality.

-BONES-

The next morning in the Jeffersonian it took her only three minutes until she ran into Angela, and one glance made out of ice-blue fire was enough for the artist to turn around on her heels. Brennan was glad that this talk seemed to be postponed for a while because she had no idea what in all the world she should tell her best friend. How she could explain what had happened. And if she should do it at all.

Burying herself behind her desk, Brennan tried to catch up with her emails. Her publisher had given feedback to the latest chapter of her novel. An invitation to a conference. An article for which one of her former professors needed her expertise... This, this was her life. It centered around science, bones and writing. It used to be enough, used to be everything, but today she experienced difficulties to lose herself in it.

Today the woman who wanted to wear the flower-printed dress couldn't be silenced...

Noon came and went by without a call from Booth, and when the lab around her got empty, she still hadn't heard from him. Maybe it was for the best, she mused, switching off her computer in the darkness. Maybe some time and space were necessary to adjust. However...

-BONES-

All day long he had tried to suppress the urge to call her, to hear her clinical but soft voice. Around lunch-time he had even driven to the lab, but after twenty minutes in the parking lot, debating why he should see her and why not, he had turned on the engine again without having left his car.

With no open case there was nothing to distract him than paper work, and even on good days – together with Bones and Chinese take-out – he didn't like it that much.

So he had a lot of time to think, and every other minute his mind traveled back to Europe, traveled back to her. Her elegant face asleep on the pillow next to him. Her rosy lips swollen from his kisses. The Atlantic wind in her free hair.

Five o'clock couldn't come fast enough, but as soon as he stepped out of the Hoover Building, Booth didn't know what to do next. Neither the gym nor a bar sounded tempting, but to kill some time he jogged a few miles, and the fresh sweat on his body felt admittedly cleansing.

Back home, after a long and hot shower, his unpacked suitcase struck his eye, and with a sigh Booth decided to work his way through it. It couldn't be that hard, it was just laundry. His mantra lasted until he found one of her tops. It was pale blue, and he remembered that she had worn it on the flight from Ireland to Portugal, on the same flight where she had whispered, "Call me Baby."

Despite being squeezed into a suitcase for a few days, he could still find a trace of her unique scent in the garment, and suddenly he needed to see her. After all, she might miss the top. It was a weak pretext, even for him, but it was enough to grab a pair of shoes and his car keys.

-BONES-

Brennan was still fighting with the silence, as a knock on the door interrupted her loneliness. Clad in cozy sweatpants and a hoodie – the feeling of cold hadn't subsided yet – she opened the door, and her heart stopped.

"Booth!"

He opened his mouth and closed it again. She looked so familiar that his heart felt sore at the sight of her, and he was strangely touched when he noticed that the sunburn on her nose had already begun to fade, leaving milky-brown freckles behind. Her nose told a whole story, and he had been there to witness it, had lived it side by side with her.

Brennan's eyes roamed over his form as well. He was fidgeting, twisting something pale blue in his callous hands, and when her gaze fell to his feet, she had to smile. Her big and cocky partner was nervous.

"You're wearing two different shoes."

Looking down at himself, Booth felt like a fool as he noticed that she was right.

"Yeah... well... I was a little bit distracted today. Here," he pushed the excuse that was her top into her hands. "I found it in my suitcase."

'You could have waited until tomorrow. Or wash it at first.' The words were on her tongue, but Brennan bit them back, too glad was she to see him, too warm felt her chest at sudden.

"I had trouble focusing as well," she finally admitted, and his face softened into a tentative smile.

"You want a beer?"

Understanding it as the invitation it was, he stepped into her apartment.

"I take whatever you have."

"Tea?"

"Uh... okay, why not."

Taking a seat on her couch, Booth waited for her to join him, and when she followed him with a second cup, he noticed that she left some inches of space on the couch between them. Some inches that wouldn't have been there yesterday.

"How was your day?" he finally asked.

She shrugged.

"Oddly exhausting."

"Did you see Angela?"

"Only from afar, I didn't feel in the mood to talk to her. But she looked guilty."

"At least something."

"How was yours?"

"Dull. Did you eat?"

"Salad. You?"

"Burger."

"I missed you."

The words tumbled out of her mouth on a will of their own, and her hand flew to her face, covering her traitorous lips. However, the world didn't shatter, only his long sigh cut into the evening.

"You have no idea... I didn't sleep very well." 'Without you.'

Taking a deep breath, she tried to walk on the high wire their conversation had turned into.

"Me neither... I guess we both need some time to adjust." 'Hold me!'

"Adjusting is a bitch, Bones."

"I'm not familiar with the idiom, but it sounds correct."

Silence settled over them as he reveled in her presence, as she tried to absorb as much of his body heat as possible without coming too close. Mercilessly the hands of the clock moved forward, and when he had finished his cup of tea, Booth ran out of reasons to stay. He squared his shoulders, steeling himself for saying goodbye.

"Thank you for the tea."

Her blue eyes widened in something like... was is panic?

"You're leaving already?"

"Yeah, well, it's late, you know. And I cannot stay."

'Can I?' his pleading eyes added, and she tried to find an excuse why he should stay so desperately, but apart from the obvious nothing came to her mind. She wanted him to stay, that was the only reason, but it wasn't good enough. It wasn't rational.

"Of course," she whispered, bowing her head.

The couch shifted as he got up, and she followed him to the exit, her footsteps heavy. His hand was already on the doorknob when he turned around, a myriad of emotions in his deep brown eyes, and with a heartfelt sob she was in his arms. Inhaling the familiar scent of him, feeling his strong arms around her with just the right amount of pressure. His own nose burrowed in her silky hair, he rocked her gently, eyes wide shut.

"I'm not adjusting very well, Baby," he whispered, his lips hovering over her hair.

Clutching him tightly, she tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Neither am I, Booth."

A last squeeze, and the doorknob turned for real, as he left her apartment without looking back, without revealing his own sad tears to her. If only they had known that they were on the same page; if only one of them had been brave enough to put their feelings into words... But he walked away from her although every part of him wanted to stay, and she watched his retreating form even though every fiber inside of her screamed for him to come back.

The universe had given them one more chance... and – again – they let it slip like sand through their fingers. Lost in the wind.

-BONES-

By the end of the week the red shade of her nose wasn't more than a memory. They hadn't gotten a case, yet, and he had only seen her once for lunch. She looked paler somehow, and he wondered if she was eating enough. Even though he knew that it was more than wrong, Booth found himself hoping desperately for some rotten bones to surface somewhere.

One evening he had called her, but after some time of loud silence, her words had cut into his soul. "It was never meant to last, Booth," she had said, and her statement had been surrounded by an aura of cold.

He hadn't sought her closeness again.

That didn't mean that he had stopped thinking about her, missing her. On Friday evening he spent an hour driving through the city in search of a bottle shop which would sell Vino Verde. He found one in the end, and drinking the sparkling wine alone in his apartment was a very subtle kind of torture.

-BONES-

Brennan couldn't sleep, and on Wednesday she was done trying and spent the whole night writing on her book. Thursday felt like a living nightmare, but despite her exhaustion the night was as troublesome as all the others since they had come back.

She missed everything about the million little details they had shared during their vacation, but every time when something inside of her was almost weak enough to break, the little voice came back. "It was never meant to last," she told herself numerous times each day, and in the end she said it to him as well.

Temperance Brennan had always been one for the truth, and, regardless of how much she wanted it to be different, this was the truth. Despite her brilliance she failed to see that there are things in this world too big for human will to control, that the universe has its very own understanding of what is meant to last.

She failed to realize that the change hadn't happened during that frenzy night in Paris. It hadn't started when she had kissed her partner in the Irish rain, and even their tender days under the Portuguese sun hadn't been the beginning. The start, the very origin of what they were and could be had taken place many years ago when their eyes had first crossed in a crowded lecture hall.

_Do you believe in fate?_

Still, she didn't, but she hadn't believed in vacations, either...

Saturday morning the persistent tone of her cell phone invaded the haze of her sleep-pill-clouded mind.

Booth.

Some "rotten bones" had been found.

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere in North Carolina...

To be continued...

_I apologize to the inhabitants of North Carolina in advance. I've never been there and can only operate on cliches... If you want to provide me with insides, this would be the right time. _


	7. Mount Airy, NC

_Wow, it seems as if fanfiction reading is quite popular in North Carolina. Thanks to all of you for your insights! This chapter isn't long, but it was never meant to be anyways. Nevertheless, enjoy and happy Easter! I wish you a lot of chocolate bunnies and colored organic eggs :-)_

VII. Mount Airy, NC

As soon as they had left the city behind, Brennan's eyelids began to flutter with sleepiness. Maybe it was the rhythmic movement of the car, maybe just sheer exhaustion and the aftereffects of the sleeping pill she had taken or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that Booth's physical presence filled the car, surrounding her like the coziest blanket ever. His male scent in the air, the soft humming noise he made or the tapping sound of his fingers on the steering wheel – whatever it was, she fell asleep and missed most of their journey.

She missed how the landscape got curvy, how the soft hills and late autumn woods of Shenandoah Valley passed by, she missed how the rough line of the mountains almost touched the sky.

It was a beauty born out of century-old peace, and Booth felt himself calmer than he had been all week long. Her even breaths next to him were a sound as familiar as his own heartbeat; her ivory face more alluring than the mighty nature surrounding them.

More than three-hundred miles full of peace, and even though it was a long drive, he enjoyed it somehow. Suddenly the last week felt ridiculous because this, this was like it should be. The sweet intimacy that was so palpable in this very moment seemed so right, and not for the first time Booth asked himself why in all the world they were still fighting it. But for the first time he allowed himself to think past the safe line they had drawn...

Maybe the universe wouldn't crash if he told her. Maybe it was time to accept that whatever it was between them was too big, too strong to be ignored. Maybe it was time to not only believe in but act upon fate. Maybe, just maybe he should stop thinking "maybe"...

When the road sign told him that Mount Airy, their destination, would come next, Booth drove off and stopped at a little gas station slash diner. He assumed that Brennan would feel the need to freshen up before arriving at the crime scene, and he was in desperate need for a coffee and a toilet himself. His limbs felt stiff after five hours behind the steering wheel, and his spine cracked unpleasantly when he stretched himself on his seat.

Next to him his partner stirred, missing the sonorous tone of the car. Then her eyelids opened, and his chest tightened and exploded at the same time, as he found the usual combination of drowsiness and innocent trust in her pale blue orbs, the dreamy look that told him that she wasn't fully awake yet; the one he had missed so much.

"Hi Bones," he smiled, and she meowed softly.

"We're there?"

Her voice was raspy, husky with sleep, and he reached out his hand to tuck a brown curl behind her ear.

"Almost. I thought you could need a restroom and a coffee first."

Yawning, she stretched herself as thoroughly as possible in the narrow space.

"That's very considerate of you."

The coffee tasted like dishwater, but at least it was hot and stimulated them somehow. Sitting across each other on a cheap plastic table, Booth provided his partner with facts about the case. Remains, not more than bones, had been found on a sheep pasture in the area of White Plains, close to the small town Mount Airy.

The local cops were, well, locals, but even despite their lack of experience with violent crimes, Booth harbored the secret suspicion that the case didn't really need the brilliance of Temperance Brennan. He didn't mention that it had been his own insistence which had gotten them on the case – no need for her to know – but Booth doubted that he could stand another week of not working with her, another week of barely seeing her.

The crime scene itself was a huge farm complex with stables and green meadows as far as his eyes could reach. The bleat of sheep lingered in the air just like the smell of luscious grass and hay. He interviewed the workers and talked to the local force while Bones was being Bones, he realized with a smile.

The dark Jeffersonian overall wasn't really flattering, but still she looked so stunning as she insulted cop after cop because her remains had been compromised. He loved this about her, her stubborn boldness, the way she could infuriate and annoy even the strongest guy. Just like him so many years ago...

Anyways, he decided to safe the poor men from the fury of the goddess.

"Hey, Bones, you got something?"

Tilting her head, she looked up at him with a furrow of concentration on her brow. Another thing he loved. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't come up with anything that he didn't love about her, and – as inappropriate as the moment was – a strong rush of tenderness and affection filled his being. For her, it was all for her. Had always been.

"Male, in his fifties. Considering the consistency of the ground and the average climate, I'd say he's been dead for at least two years, maybe thirty months."

He cleared his throat, as he tried to concentrate on her words.

"Cause of death?"

"I don't know yet, but I found bite marks on fibula, ulna and several ribs."

"Uh."

His face twisted in disgust.

"Sheep?"

"No. From size, pattern and applied pressure suidae family would be my first assumption."

"English?"

She reached out her hand to him, and Booth pulled her to her feet, enjoying the brief tingle the physical contact evoked.

"Pigs," she said, removing her latex gloves.

"I wonder since when the sheep farm is a sheep farm."

-BONES-

The rest of the day went by in routine. It wasn't really a shock when they found out that the land had been bought two years ago by a big company, shortly after one of the brothers who had owned the acres beforehand had disappeared. They managed to track down the other brother, and when Brennan found microfractures on the ribs which indicated a gunshot into soft tissue, the suspect broke, revealing everything from killing his brother to burying the remains on the pasture next to the pigpen. It was little consolation that the man hadn't really fed his brother to the animals himself...

The full moon was hanging over the black shape of the hills when Booth and Brennan left the police station shortly after midnight. The darkness surrounding them was humming with nocturnal insect activity, and somewhere the hypnotizing call of a raptorial bird could be heard, a hunter of the night.

He felt shivers running down his spine, as his hand found the small of her back in a little gesture of protectiveness.

"Maybe I should have put silver bullets into my gun," he joked half-heartedly.

"If you're referring to lycanthropy, Booth, that is only a myth."

"Yeah, just kidding," came his dry reply, but he didn't sound very convinced, as his gaze roamed over the woods. "Come on, let's find our motel. But if there's a stuffed bird next to the reception, we leave this place immediately and drive home tonight."

"I don't know what that means," she stated, and he chuckled.

"Of course you don't. Bones, some time we really have to work on your movie education."

Movie. Popcorn. Booth. Couch. Immediately her mind provided her with a vivid image, and suddenly she wanted to have it. The darkness made her brave enough to say it out loud.

"I'd like that, Booth."

Even though it should be impossible, she could sense his surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes. I like... spending time with you."

Her words were a whisper, but their echo in his chest was loud.

"Maybe we should spend more time with each other then," he found the courage to say, and his voice was only a little smaller than usual.

"That sounds like a wise conclusion."

And it was night in North Carolina.

-BONES-

Even though their motel stood secluded at a rural road, it wasn't as crappy as expected, and stuffed animals were nowhere to be seen. Booth made short process of getting two adjoining rooms for them, and fifteen minutes later the two partners had occupied their respective spaces.

Clad in boxers and a top, Brennan sat on her bed to cream her hands and feet, suddenly wide awake. He was only a few feet away, and not more than a wooden door separated their rooms. Still, there was no good reason why she should knock, why she should join him in his room except for the one that had always been there. She wanted to... and suddenly it seemed as if it could be enough, as if the simple truth was even better than every pretext could ever be.

On the other side of the paper-thin wall, Booth sat on his bed, leaning against a pile of pillows. He was tired to death, and he missed her just like he had missed her the first night after their vacation. Should he tell her? Could he?

Two voices were still fighting in his head, when he heard the soft knock, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah?"

The doorknob turned, and she was standing there on bare feet and long legs, gnawing her bottom lip. Something told him that her courage had gone as far as opening the door, and as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if their equilibrium wasn't fragile, he shifted a few inches and patted the mattress next to him, praying that she couldn't hear his fast heartbeat, that his words would come out steady and normal.

"You wanna come to bed?"

She nodded as relief washed over her features, and a blink later she was next to him, sliding under the covers and into his arms, finally filling the space that had felt so hollow, so senseless without her.

And suddenly everything was whole again, as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, as his arms tightened around her slender waist. Brennan let go of a low sigh, and Booth buried his face deep in the silkiness of her hair, welcoming the scent of her, welcoming her weight in his arms.

"Just to be clear, this isn't a pocket universe," he uttered, and for a brief moment she went rigid in his arms. However, the moment vanished, and then her pliant body was surrounding him.

"I know," came her whispered reply in the night – somewhere in the middle of nowhere in North Carolina, while outside in the woods an owl had just spotted its prey.

Sleepiness overwhelmed them, but the silvery moonlight guarded their dreams, and together with them the stars were smiling.

-BONES-

Morning came with gray November rain, but when he opened his heavy eyelids, Booth found her heart-warming gaze lingering on his face. His lips curved into a smile, and a fair hand reached out to brush his stubbly cheek.

"Good morning."

"Good morning yourself, Booth."

Lying as still as possible, he enjoyed the warmth of her hand on his face and tried not to think, tried not to hope. After all, this was Temperance Brennan, and if he had learned something about her, it was that you may not push her. Or compromise her remains. With no corpses in sight, he settled for not pushing her, not demanding more than she was ready to give. After a while of silence, the caress stopped, and he searched for her gaze.

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

She sounded just a little breathless, but not panicked.

"New ground rules."

She arched an eyebrow at him, but something inside of her clenched in anticipation.

"From now on, whenever you cannot sleep, come to me."

Looking puzzled, she opened and closed her mouth before asking,

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"But you have values, morals."

"Which I am not abandoning. Temperance, I'm not talking about sex, you know?"

She bowed her head, but he tapped her chin lightly.

"Look at me, please. Whatever we have started, it won't go away, and, truth be told, I don't want it to go away. But I know you and so I'm just asking for one thing right now. Come to me when you cannot sleep."

"And then...?"

"Then we will sleep. Maybe I'll make you coffee in the morning, maybe you'll make it for me. And in the meantime, I'll hold you just like this."

"Just like this," she repeated because her mind had gone blank. She knew what he was offering to her, and she wasn't too oblivious to realize that he tried to cut it into slices that wouldn't be too big for her to swallow. Suddenly her heart was so full that it threatened to spill over.

"Okay."

Exhaling in relief and so much more, he wrapped his arms loosely around her body and cradled her.

"Good."

The moment was awkward and sweet, but it was real. Just like that they had made a step in a new direction, and they had made it together. Despite the fact that they had already touched and tasted every inch of each other's bodies, their embrace was shy somehow, almost innocent. They weren't living a dream far away in Europe, they were Booth and Brennan, partners, crime-fighters, and this was their reality – a reality that had gotten richer somehow because they were on the verge of something new. Or better said, on the verge of accepting something that had been there for a long time.

Almost ready to dive into it. Almost.

However, for the first time they were convinced that they wouldn't drown.

When they packed his car to leave North Carolina later this morning, they had crossed another border, and maybe, just maybe it had been the most important one.

The one that could lead them to a land where the sun would be shining.

-BONES-

Meanwhile in D.C...

Sunday morning coffee found Angela Montenegro and Jack Hodgins wrapped in soft woolen blankets on his balcony instead of his bed. The latter had always been their favorite weekend pastime, but neither of them had fully recovered from their tantra experience, yet.

Letting go of a sigh, Angela stared into her mug as if the milky-brown brew contained every answer of the world.

"She hasn't even talked to me yet..."

Hodgins face twisted in something that looked suspiciously like guilt.

"Booth hasn't been in the lab all week long."

"Something went wrong, Jack."

"Yeah..."

"What can we do?"

"I don't know, but we have to fix it somehow. I feel oddly responsible."

"Because we are responsible, Babe."

"Sounds like a reason. She's your best friend. You should talk to her."

Another sigh.

"Sounds suicidal, but I guess you're right."

Another glance was shared as he took in the cleft of her cleavage, as her eyes lingered on his strong biceps. However, the mental image of a certain two-hundred-and-fifty-pound-woman screaming in ecstasy was stronger than temptation itself, and a mutual sigh was released into the air.

"Monopoly?"

"Yeah..."

To be continued...


	8. Washington DC III

IIX. Washington D.C.

This time coming come didn't feel like a cut into his soul, and when he stopped his car in front of her building in the late afternoon, Booth noticed that she was somehow reluctant to leave her seat. It was only a tiny gesture – a flicker of insecurity in her eyes, a second of hesitation in her hand as it reached for the door handle – but to him it meant something big.

Then she turned around and gave him a smile that didn't manage to cover her vulnerability.

"Booth... I have no plans for tonight, so if you like to start working on my movie education, today would be fine for me."

Reaching out his hand, he grazed her arm in a gesture that was meant to be reassuring.

"Sounds cool. You want me to grab a movie?"

"Well, since you insist that I neither own nor know the right stuff, that would be reasonable."

"Okay, I'll be back soon."

A last smile, and she was out of the car. However, there was nothing sad about the moment, and when she walked into her building, Brennan tried to process the shift that had happened somewhere between here and North Carolina.

It was a beginning, one that was full of promises, but for once in her life the prospect didn't scare her that much. After all, the pieces were already there. She had fallen asleep and woken up in his arms, she had talked and laughed and cried with him, she was intimately familiar with his body. Around him there was no need to pretend to be somebody else, and it was oddly relaxing. The last challenge was to complete the puzzle, to grasp the whole picture the tender fragments could be.

The idea of going down that road with her partner was still scary, but right now she was ready to take "scary" over the nagging feeling of emptiness that had filled the last week. After all, Booth was the people person, and if _he_ thought that they would be okay, she should probably trust him on that.

Slicing tomatoes and eggplants in her kitchen, Brennan let her thoughts wander. For someone as focused as her, it was a rare treat to be carried away by the moment, but right here, right now she was just a woman preparing diner while waiting for a man. It was so heart-crushingly normal that a faint smile played around her lips.

Just when the salty water in the pot started to boil, a knock cut into her domestic silence.

"It's open," she called, and he stepped into her apartment.

"You really shouldn't do that," he complained.

"I was expecting you, and besides, I am fully capable of defending myself."

"With an eggplant? What are you doing anyways?"

"Cooking diner."

"I have to repeat myself: With an eggplant?"

"Oh, come on, some vegetables every once in a while won't kill you."

Stepping closer, Booth ogled pot and pan suspiciously.

"I'll take your word for it. Pasta?"

"Yes. I thought we could eat before watching the movie."

"Makes sense. Thanks for cooking, Bones."

Her smile was almost benevolent.

"You're welcome."

"Can I help you?"

"You could set the table."

"Yep. Something to drink?"

"Sure. What do you want? Beer?"

"Yeah, I'll get it."

Opening her fridge to grab two ice-cold bottles was something he had done many times in the last years. He knew that her fridge was ridiculously tidy, that he would probably find peppers arranged by color, and that there would be his favorite beer brand. She always had his brand on stock, and not for the first time the fact made him irrationally happy. With a quick backwards glance to make sure that she was busy, he changed the positions of one red and one yellow pepper, grinning like a kid who had just been very naughty.

"I know that you just switched my peppers, Booth."

He flinched.

"Damn it. How?"

"How? Seriously? Because you've been doing it for the last three years? I will never understand why, though. Is it just to annoy me?"

Approaching her with two bottles in his hand, he pressed one to her neck, and she gasped in surprise as the cold glass made contact with her skin.

"So not fair," she pouted, and he chuckled.

"Sorry. As for the peppers," he shrugged, "they just scream at me to be a little bit messy."

"That doesn't make any sense, Booth."

Taking one bottle from him, Brennan tilted her neck to gulp down the cool drink.

"Still, I like messing up your peppers."

"You're messing up way more than just my peppers," she whispered, but he heard her.

Placing his flat palm on her back, he rubbed her slowly.

"I'm not sorry, Bones. Not anymore."

He was regarding her calmly, and his deep brown eyes held hers captured with their intensity. Both of them jumped when a shrill alarm interrupted the moment, and she turned around to drain the pasta. However, her back was tingling where he had touched her, and a stream of tenderness and heat was running through her body.

Diner was delicious, and Booth didn't even mind the eggplants. Laughter was filling the air, as they savored their meal, as one Sunday evening was spent in perfect harmony, and later they made popcorn and moved to her couch. He had chosen "Psycho", and he couldn't wait to hear her opinion on the old Hitchcock classic.

He knew the movie by heart, so every other minute his gaze flickered to her, lingering on cuteness itself. She was staring at the TV screen with wide eyes and mouth agape, pressing the bowl of popcorn to her chest. Her cheeks were flushed, and sometimes it seemed as if she was too afraid to breathe, as she was carried away by suspense.

Leaning back, Booth relaxed on the couch, taking a sip of beer or a mouthful of his own popcorn every now and then, wondering how something as simple as a movie night could make him so ridiculously happy and content.

When the closing credits rolled, Brennan turned her head and looked at her smirking partner for the first time since the film had started.

"That was quite entertaining, I have to say. And now I understand your stuffed bird reference. I fully agree that we should have left the place yesterday if there had been such a bird."

He chuckled, as he made an X on his mental list.

"I'm glad. One tiny step for you, a big step for humanity. Temperance Brennan on her way to understand normal people."

He cursed inwardly as something like hurt washed over her face, and before she could speak, he reached out his hand to stop her.

"Sorry, Bones, forget what I said. Please don't ever change. Okay?"

Eyes so brown, so warm were looking at her, and finally she nodded in acceptance.

"It's not as if I'm not trying, Booth. It's just... sometimes people are so very hard to understand."

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, and the little gesture moved something inside of him.

"If it's any consolation, just the same people find you very hard to understand as well."

"What about you?"

"I'm not objective?"

"What? Why?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Because," a deep breath, "I'm just not objective when it comes to you. I... like... you too much."

"Oh, okay... That's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah, a very good thing."

"You know, I like you, too."

He bumped her shoulder playfully.

"Jeez, I'm glad to hear."

For a moment she just looked at him, and something was dancing in her gray-blue eyes. Then she burst out in laughter, and he watched her with amusement. When her giggles subsided, she was holding her belly and relaxed next to him.

"Thank you for the evening, Booth. It was quite enjoyable."

"That seems to be my cue to leave."

She regarded him silently. Brennan knew that she just had to ask, and he would stay. However, somehow the sheer possibility was enough for the moment. Their connection was stronger than ever, and just like she knew it, he felt it as well. Leaving tonight was necessary because he'd have to come back in the morning, providing her with a cup of coffee and a ride.

Accompanying him to the door, Brennan watched how he slipped into his shoes, and when he was ready to leave, she rose onto her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek. She caught a whiff of his aftershave mingled with popcorn and beer. It moved her.

"Thank you for broadening my horizon."

He gave her a wide grin.

"Anytime, Babe."

This night she slept like a baby, the memory of an evening spent together covering her like a cozy blanket. Her dreams lured her with images that used to be nothing but fantasy, but when she awoke the next morning, a smile played around her lips because for once she believed that she could actually have it. The smile didn't leave her while she took her shower, and when she opened her fridge to prepare breakfast, it brightened even more as the mismatched peppers greeted her with their colors.

Sometimes... messy was like it should be.

-BONES-

Monday did everything to prove why people all over the world dislike it so much. A broken heel and mixed up limbo boxes on her side, red tape and paperwork on his side. To complete his luck, his favorite coffee machine in the Hoover Building was out of order, and in the early afternoon Booth had enough and drove to the Jeffersonian, buying two cups of coffee in a drive-through.

He managed not to run into anyone on his way to her office, and when he spotted her through the glass walls, his stomach did a somersault. She looked concentrated but a little bit annoyed, and something about the way she held her shoulders told him that she was tense.

"Hi Bones."

She looked up, and most of the tension left her face at the sight of him.

"Booth. What are you doing here?"

"Coffee break."

Approaching her, he held out one cup, and she accepted it thankfully.

"Crappy day."

"Tell me about it," she sighed.

"Temperance Brennan, did you just use a phrase?"

Her eyes started to smile.

"I believe I did. Even though you can actually tell me about your crap, of course."

He shrugged.

"Nothing special. North Carolina paperwork."

Interrupting himself, he observed the way she rolled her shoulders with a furrowed brow.

"You hurt?"

"No, just uptight."

Walking around her desk, he came to a halt behind her.

"Trust me?"

"Not when it comes to bones."

"Relax, it's just a massage."

He brushed the silky curtain of her hair away and cupped her nape with his palm. She sighed, as his warmth streamed into her body, and leaned back into his touch. Kneading her very gently, Booth let himself guide by her soft moans, and after a while she melted like butter in his hands.

"Better?" he murmured.

"Yes. Don't stop please."

"Never."

Bending down, he placed a light kiss on top of her head, nuzzling her hair with his nose, and his magic fingers never left her shoulders, as every bit of tension left her body, was replaced by a completely different sensation. One that made her wish that he had actually stayed last night...

"Brenn, we have to talk. Oh-"

Angela froze, as she stepped into her best friend's office – Hodgins on her tail – finding Brennan and Booth in a moment that looked intimate and sweet. The two partners didn't even jump apart guiltily, they merely shared a glance and a smile before Brennan gestured at her friends to close the door.

"Yes, Angela, I agree. We have to talk. This is a good time, so come in a take a seat. Both of you."

Squaring her shoulders, Brennan tried her best to muster a strict expression, and Booth was in no way inferior to her, as he towered next to her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Hodgins swallowed hard, as he took a seat next to his uncharacteristically silent girlfriend.

"Hey, guys," he tried, "can't we just say we're even?"

Booth's mimic didn't change for a second, only one eyebrow rose.

"Even?"

"Well, you've gotten your revenge. What else do you want, our firstborn? Whose birth is highly unlikely by the way because after that tantra thing we can barely touch each other anymore, thank you very much," Angela exclaimed.

"That bad?" Brennan asked with honest curiosity, and Angela rolled her eyes.

"You have no idea."

"Angela, Dr. Hodgins, you deserved it. After all, you lied to us. You tried to mess with us."

Reaching for his girlfriend's hand, Hodgins tried to intervene.

"Our intentions were nothing but good."

"You lied to us!"

"Listen, guys, we love you," Angela barged in. "We just wanted to give you an opportunity to live a little. We're sorry if it didn't work so well. But maybe it did?"

The two partners exchanged another glance, and as always her pale blue softness got to him.

"Apology accepted. But don't do a stunt like that ever again, or we will find you," Booth threatened.

"Hey, man, we wouldn't think of it."

Hodgins sounded sincere and just a little bit panicked.

"Okay, I believe we're done," Brennan stated, and her friends got up from their seats.

"That's it? Don't you want to tell us some stories about Europe?"

Another glance was shared.

"Didn't you get our postcards?" Booth asked dryly, and Angela and Hodgins hurried out of Brennan's office.

"Of course, thank you. See you later."

After the door had closed behind the two of them, Brennan and Booth burst out in laughter.

"That was fun," she managed to say after a while, and he agreed.

"Totally. I really like the two of them."

Casting a glance at his watch, Booth gave his partner an apologetic smile.

"I guess your coffee break is over, isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

"Thanks for coming over, Booth. And thanks for the massage, that was very relaxing."

"Anytime," he whispered, and with a glance to her glass walls, he left another quick kiss on her head.

"Bye, Bones."

"See you later."

-BONES-

They didn't talk to each other again, and when she changed into comfortable sleepwear later that night, Brennan was strangely on edge. It was more than mere exhaustion after a long day at work, and when she brushed her teeth, she finally managed to identify the nagging feeling. It was missing Booth. Not that desperate kind of longing which had accompanied her during the first week after their vacation – no, she would recognize that any time – it was an almost sweet ache which made her chest sore, her stomach unsteady.

A glance at her clock told her that it was half past eleven, and without thinking about it too long, Brennan packed an overnight bag, pulled her coat over her pajama and grabbed her car keys.

After all, she had his invitation.

The knock caught him by surprise, and Booth opened his door clad in boxers, the gun in his hand.

"Bones," he managed to utter before she started to giggle.

"Booth, you can impossibly shoot someone in your boxers. It looks ridiculous."

"Of course I can, Ms. I-wear-PJ's-under-my-coat. But since you're so nice to me, I won't shoot you this time. You wanna come in?"

Her face got serious as playfulness left her eyes.

"Yes, Booth. When you said that I should come to you whenever I-"

"I meant it," he interrupted her, his heart beating wildly.

Closing her eyes, she exhaled in relief.

"I thought so, but I had to ask."

Taking a sideways step, he opened the door further, and she walked in his direction. When she was almost past him, Booth grabbed her hand and stopped her, pulling her into his arms.

"Hi," he murmured close to her ear, as he held her in the sweetest embrace ever.

Dropping her bag, Brennan wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into his bare chest.

"Hi yourself."

"I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

Taking her face into both palms, he placed a tender kiss on her soft cheek before releasing her.

"Go ahead, Bones. Towels and a toothbrush are in the bathroom. Take what you need."

She nodded.

"Thank you."

She had come to him! His insides were on a roller coaster ride, as he went into the kitchen to gain a few moments. She had really accepted his offer. She would spend the night in his arms. His chest felt as if it might burst, and the little noises she made in the bathroom were pure happiness.

Grinning like a fool, he walked in the direction of his bedroom, a warm mug in his hands. She was already under the covers, occupying the right side of the bed.

"I made you some tea."

Bracing on her elbows, she regarded him with gratitude and surprise. No man had ever made her goodnight tea before. It was so... _him_.

"That's very nice of you, Booth."

Her voice was as velvety as the night itself.

Sliding under the covers on the left side of the bed, he handed the mug over to her, and she took a first cautious sip. The room was quiet except for their breaths and the moonlight, and he watched her peacefully. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he didn't know where to start, so he settled for looking at her while she drank her tea.

Brennan felt warm, and not only because of the hot beverage that filled her tummy. It was a profound kind of warmth, one that she had learned to associate with his closeness, and when she placed the half-empty mug on the nightstand, he reached out to switch off the light.

Outstretching her hand, Brennan traced the contours of his naked arm with her fingers, and he sighed in the darkness, catching her hand. He caressed her phalanges with his thumb and brought the hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist.

Her fingers interlaced with his, as she moved closer until she could feel his body heat through her pajama, until his head lay in the crook of her neck and her arms roamed over his strong back.

Her body was soft and curvy against his own, and the memory of moving inside of her overwhelmed him for a heartbeat. Shifting until his head lay higher than hers, he wrapped her into his arms completely and pulled her flush to him. Her felt her light gasp, as his leg slid between hers, but then she wrapped her own over his hip, and interlocked as a tangle of limbs, they enjoyed the silence, falling asleep eventually, a "goodnight" and a smile on their lips.

Somewhere on the firmament a star was blinking, as a few more pieces fell firmly into place, and one could already catch a glimpse of the perfection the whole picture would show once the puzzle would be complete.

Because together... they were more than beautiful.

-BONES-

He awoke before the alarm could end the night, and even before he opened his eyes, he knew that she was truly there, in his arms. Delight lit up his face, and then he saw her, her angelic face resting on his arm, her hand clutching a corner of the pillow. Her cheeks looked warm, her lips rosy, and before caution could awake, he lowered his head to brush his mouth over hers ever so gently. He did it again, and then her breath pattern changed, telling him that she had woken up.

Opening his eyes, he fell into the palest blue ever, but there was no dismissal in her orbs, and so he kissed her again, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. She meowed, and her arms came around his neck to hold him in place, and this time she kissed him back, her lips moving slowly over his own, her warm sleepiness cradling him.

Taking her face into his hands, he rolled on top of her until there was nothing in this world but kissing her; nothing but her kissing him back.

When they broke apart, he brushed her eyelids with his lips before nuzzling his face into the soft valley of her neck, and she hummed in contentment, as her arms tightened around his back. It was a pure and tender moment, at least until the alarm decided to join in as well.

With a groan he stretched to hit the snooze button, and she chuckled.

"Good morning, Booth."

"Good morning beautiful."

He cupped her cheek, incredibly glad to find nothing than acceptance in her gaze.

"How did you sleep?"

"Good. Very good."

"You wanna take a shower?"

"Yes, please."

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

"Another kiss beforehand?"

"Yes... please."

Smiling down on her, he lowered his head to capture her lips anew, and this time there was a trace of longing in their kiss which sent a stream of liquid heat to her core, and she thought about his body she knew so well. About the shape of him, the size of him, the taste of him. He caught her moan with his tongue, and his crotch tightened. What was meant to be a sweet good morning kiss was slowly but surely spiraling out of control, and mustering the last ounce of willpower, Booth teared his mouth away from hers, breathing heavily, finding her equally aroused.

"Shower," he managed to say, as he moved down from her, trying to hide his body's reaction to their kiss.

However, she wasn't a forensic anthropologist for nothing – hell, she wasn't a _woman_ for nothing – and rolling onto her side, she reached out to touch his back.

"No need to be ashamed, Booth. I think the common reply would be, 'Nothing I haven't already seen.' And besides," taking a deep breath, "I feel it as well."

He gave her a weak smile.

"Sorry, I'm not doing the sleepover-with-coffee arrangement very well."

Shifting until she could embrace him from behind, Brennan kissed his neck.

"You do it just right. Everything, Booth."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You will come back then?"

"Anytime. To be honest, I thought about leaving my pajama behind."

She couldn't see it, but a fat grin split his face.

"I'd like that."

The alarm rang again, and she pushed the button to silence it.

"What about the cup of coffee you promised, though?"

An hour later they left his apartment, ready to face the day, and when they were riding in his car, bickering about the radio station, the cold morning sun caressed his empty bedroom where her scent was still lingering in his crumpled sheets, where her soft polka-dotted PJ's had found a new home.

-BONES-

Tuesday was, well, Tuesday.

Some bones, an interrogation, lunch at the Royal Diner, a stolen kiss in the parking lot, flushed cheeks and breathless laughter. Resistance crumbling, promises made.

Later that day they let bones be bones, as he took her to a karaoke bar, and he laughed in pure bliss at the sight of her jumping around on the stage, performing an old Cindy Lauper song. Most of the men in the bar were devouring her with their eyes, but for once Booth didn't mind. Yes, she was too beautiful for words, her hair shimmering in the spotlight, her eyes sparkling. However, he was the one who knew that she wore polka-dotted PJ's at night, and said PJ's were waiting in his apartment. He was the one she was looking at while singing her song, and her words were meant for him.

When the last line, the last tune faded out, Brennan was rewarded with wolf whistles and applause, and he gave her a full smile, as she approached their table, reaching out to her and pulling her into his lap.

"You rock, Baby," he stated seriously, giving her a quick kiss.

A kiss that she deepened, and he could feel the heat of her cheeks and her excitement.

"That was fun, Booth."

"Yeah, it looked like fun. You wanna go home?"

Gnawing her lip, she looked at him.

"Your home or my home?"

"Whatever you like."

It was another crossroads, and he tried his best not to push her, as he played with a lock of her auburn hair, waiting for her decision, and Brennan knew that whatever she said, he would be okay with it. She knew that if she said "no" today, she could still say "yes" tomorrow, and that tipped the balance, providing her with freedom and control. Control that – suddenly – didn't seem to be so important anymore. Freedom that couldn't keep abreast with his company.

"Yours would be fine."

His smile was her reward, and she knew that her decision had been the right one.

"Come on, then."

The ride to his apartment was spent in comfortable silence, and when he unlocked his door, everything looked just like they had left it in the morning. Two cups were still in the sink, her toothbrush in his bathroom, and it was oddly reassuring. It seemed as if the place had just waited for them to be filled with life.

"You wanna watch or movie or something like that?" he asked, gesturing at his couch, but she approached him with a solemn expression on her face.

"No."

"No..."

Before he could suggest something else, she had grabbed his collar, and her mouth was on his. He found the sun of Portugal in her kiss and the green of Ireland, but there were meals at the Diner and take-out at night as well. The latter told him that it was really real, and he wanted to howl, as the woman who meant the world to him started to undo her buttons, porcelain hands shimmering in the moonlight.

Stilling her movements, he searched for something like insecurity in her gaze, but couldn't find it.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," she breathed, and his heart clenched.

"You know what that means?"

He had to be sure.

"No," she admitted honestly, tilting her head. "But I do know that it means _something_. Can't that be enough for now?"

Could it? He found the answer in her eyes, and a smile tugged at his lips, as he nodded.

"Yeah, it can. But, please, don't change your mind."

Would she? She saw everything she needed to know on his face and shook her head.

"I won't."

She wasn't willing to live without that look in his eyes anymore, and when she resumed opening her buttons, this time he didn't stop her. The garment fell open, revealing her flawless milky-white skin and a simple blue bra.

Exhaling a shuddered breath, he raised his hand to brush the blouse over her shoulders, and the piece of clothing slid down her slender arms and was forgotten. Booth traced her collarbone with his fingertips, the elegant curve of her jaw, the soft valley of her cleavage. His fingers dipped between her breasts, unhooking the front clasp of her bra, and even more perfect skin was bare for him to revel in. Her breasts stood proud and high, their peaks soft and dusky in the pale light.

He let go of a sigh and fell onto his knees in front of her, rubbing his stubbly cheek over her smooth belly. Her hands tunneled in his thick hair, and she let it run through her fingers, as he showered her midsection with featherlight kisses.

It tickled, and she had to suppress a giggle, but he heard it and laughed into her skin.

Looking up at her, he found her eyes shining down on him, the darkness of her hair like a curtain around her alabaster face. Bringing his hands to her jeans, he opened button and zipper, pulling the garment down her long legs. Her panties were blue and matched the discarded bra, and soon he had them removed as well, and she was standing bare in front of him.

So fucking beautiful.

He traced her legs, feeling the soft insides of her thighs, the hardness of bone under skin when he followed her hip to span her narrow waist. With a soft kiss right above her hairline he rose again until he could face her, and joy was blooming on his face, as he drew her into his arms.

The contrast between her tender skin and the rough fabric of his clothes was so sensual that heat was pooling between her legs, and when he searched for her lips, she parted them instantly, eager to feel him, eager to taste him.

Tongues met each other, as his hands slid down her bare back to cup her buttocks, squeezing them firmly. She tasted and felt like everything he remembered, only better. One hand traveled around her hip, and without warning it moved between her legs, palming her moist heat.

She released him with a gasp, and her eyes snapped open, as his rough fingers brushed her sensitive flesh ever so slowly, creating the most pleasant friction. Her head fell back, as her thighs widened, and even though he couldn't see it, Booth knew that her eyes had just turned to a brighter shade of blue.

"Hmm..."

She purred like a kitten, and he lowered his head to suck her neck, as his finger dove into her, caressing her in the most intimate way ever. The feminine scent of her arousal was lingering in the air, and his own body was wide awake, as he held her securely with one strong arm, his other hand stroking in and out of her slick heat.

Brennan couldn't feel her legs anymore, too pleasant was the sensation he created, but she knew that Booth would never let her fall, so she surrendered herself to his caresses and clung to him. She could wait another moment before undressing him, a few more racing heartbeats before feeling him.

Tightening her hold on him, Brennan burrowed her face in his shoulder, inhaling his very own scent. It was just like she remembered it, but tonight his skin didn't smell like holiday sun; it smelled like D.C., home and work. It was perfect.

Booth groaned in protest, as she slipped out of his arms, but then her deft fingers were undoing his belt buckle, removing garment after garment between sloppy kisses until his statuesque body was naked in her arms, until she could feel his fast heartbeat close to her chest, his smooth hardness pressing into the juncture of her thighs.

"You're perfect," she murmured, and he chuckled.

"You just stole my line, Babe."

Every kiss was a step in the direction of his bedroom, every tug on his hand was followed by a flutter of his heart, every touch of his fingers was burning like fire, and then they fell onto his mattress with her landing on top of him. She was so light, so fragile, but it wasn't a contradiction at all that one thing he adored the most was her strength.

Grazing his broad chest with her palms, Brennan straddled his hips, the hot flesh of his masculinity pulsating between their bodies. 'Mine,' he thought, as she took his shaft into her hand, pumping with just the right amount of pressure; 'mine', he thought, as she lifted herself until his member met her entrance; 'mine', he thought, as she lowered herself inch by sweet inch.

"Mine," he breathed, as he was buried inside of her, as he was finally coming home.

She threw her head back, and a low moan escaped her lips, as she started to move on top of him, his hands on her hips guiding her, his whispers calling her. "Mine," she heard, as his heat throbbed inside of her, meeting her own, and her heart spilled over, as she bent down to capture his lips.

"Yours," she answered, before she kissed him, and he tightened his arms around her, pressing his palm into the small of her back as he rocked her, as he thrust into her from below.

"Yours," he repeated, and she nodded wildly because he was hers just like she was his.

He was making love to her, she felt it because the way he touched her was more than physical, and even though desire was clouding her mind, centering deep in her belly, the sensation reigned more than only her libido, reigned more than even her body. It seemed as if a strange something – maybe her aura? – covered her silhouette like a second skin, mingling with his until they were truly and really one. Until his brown was her blue, her blue was his brown.

The contractions started low in her belly, and in one swift movement he rolled them around until he was sprawled on top of her, covering her completely. Her legs wrapped around his back – as open as possible – and she welcomed thrust after thrust, welcomed his grunts, his ravenous kisses, and then he started to howl, and she was carried away by bright darkness, as her body came apart around his; as his came undone deep inside of her.

She felt distant pain, as his teeth sank into her shoulder, marking her, and she welcomed that sensation as well. Her fingernails were buried in the skin of his back, leaving their very own evidence behind, and neither of them was ready for the connection to end. They had done it. Again. But this time they couldn't take it back.

In that sweet moment of ecstasy, right before his brain would switch on, he brushed her ear with his lips.

"I love you, Temperance," he murmured, and she felt tears pooling in her eyes at the pure reverence in his voice.

"Oh, Booth..."

His lips pursed to touch her neck in a tiny kiss.

"Please, don't say anything. Just... keep it in your heart. Not saying it would have been the biggest lie ever told. Because I love you, and I don't care if the universe crashes, I only care about you."

"Booth, that's scientifically impossible," she whispered, but he heard her smile.

"I know. Doesn't make it less true, though."

She felt him softening inside of her body, as the evidence of their lovemaking was slowly dripping out of her And in this enchanted moment, she could accept his logic.

"Okay. Booth, I... I..."

"Sh..."

He brushed her lips tenderly.

"You don't have to say anything. I just want you to know that you rock my world. I want to hold you, I need you in my life and I want to make you happy."

Now her silent tears were falling, and he lifted his head, as the salty droplets hit his overheated cheek.

"Oh, Honey, don't cry," he whispered, kissing her tears away, kissing so much more away.

"I... I'm... adjusting," she managed to bring out after a while, and he hugged her firmly, as he remembered another time when she had used that word, somewhere on a balcony in Portugal. Only that this time everything was different.

"We have all the time in the world," he said between kisses, his palm smoothing her unruly curls.

"You really want to have me?" she finally asked, a hunch of incredulousness in her voice.

"Yes, please. More than anything else," was his candid answer. "I want to be able to hug and kiss you just because; I want you to be mine. I want to be yours."

Her heart so full, his solid weight on top of her, Brennan tasted his words on her tongue, and she felt so vulnerable faced with his raw emotions, but – somehow – it was okay. They were okay. Only better.

"I want that as well, Booth."

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice bright with delight, and she nodded wildly.

"Yes."

"I love you, Bones," he murmured one more time before finding her lips for a kiss full of infinitive sweetness, and his name for her and the word "love" in one breath grounded her somehow. He loved her. _Her_. Not an idealistic version, not a fairytale dream, no, her. Her own heart splintered in pure light, and once more she felt week but so strong.

"Thank you, Booth. For your faith."

"Always."

He rolled down from her with a last kiss, and for the fraction of a moment she felt strangely lonely, but then he grabbed her hand and kissed it before getting up.

"Come with me," he demanded, and she eyed him curiously.

"Why? Where?"

"We're having a shower. And then I'd like to see you in your funny PJ's."

"They are in no way funnier than your socks," she complained, as she left the tangled sheets to join him.

"I know. Aren't we a perfect match?" he said, giving her a cocky smile.

Rolling her eyes, she followed him into the bathroom, but she couldn't come up with a nimble-witted reply.

"I believe we are," she simply answered with awe in her voice that caught his heart off guard, and so he had to kiss her another time before pulling her into the shower. She smelled like rose shampoo and her, but tonight she smelled like him as well, and he was almost reluctant to wash this reminder of the last hours away.

However, with faith in more hours like this to come, he turned on the water and reached for the shower gel he had bought with her on his mind. Some eco-friendly almond milk stuff he had found in her toiletry kit during their vacation. During the loneliness that had followed their holidays, the scent had reminded him of her, and it pleased him deeply that the sentimental gesture turned out to be practical right now.

Arching an eyebrow at him, Brennan tilted her head.

"That is my usual brand."

"I know," he just said before lathering her body with a generous amount of the creamy gel, and for once she didn't scrutinize his motifs.

Fifteen minutes later they were both clean and dry, and he closed the buttons of her soft pajama. She looked cute, he decided, her face sated and sleepy, her freshly washed hair fluffy and warm after a treatment with the hairdryer.

He wore nothing but his boxers and a shirt, and his smile matched her own. Side by side they brushed their teeth, and the intimacy of the moment filled his heart with innocent joy. Opening a drawer, he found the little tube and gave it to her. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"You bough my hand lotion?"

"Yep. Now you know just how mushy I am."

"No!" Twisting the tube in her hands, Brennan fought against mushiness herself. "You are awfully nice, Booth," raising her eyes to meet his gaze, "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

He drew her into his arms.

"You always have my favorite beer. You gave me that bubbly bath salts stuff for my aching feet. Caring isn't a one-way-track, my dear," he murmured, burying a kiss in her hair.

Shifting her head until she could see his eyes, Brennan asked,

"So, I can do it as well? Touch you?"

He chuckled.

"Have you been there during the last hours?"

She blushed in frustration.

"Of course, but that was a _big_ touching thing. This," waving the lotion, "is one of a million little touching things you do all the time."

He kissed her pouting mouth with a smile.

"I know, Babe, and, yes, you do the million things as well. Every single day. You're good at this, Bones."

"Really?"

She didn't quite believe him.

"You make me very happy."

Finding nothing but honesty, warmth and, yes, love in his eyes, she finally nodded in acceptance, and a happy smile lit up her face.

Happiness followed them to bed, witnessed how she curled into his arms like a little kitten, how he cradled her like the most precious thing ever.

For the rest of the world it was just an ordinary Tuesday night, but for two people in Washington D.C. it meant the world.

-BONES-

Thursday morning found Dr. Temperance Brennan in her office, sipping her coffee while lost in thoughts. As often, work had interfered with their lives, and she hadn't seen Booth all Wednesday long, had spent the night alone.

The memories of Tuesday still managed to brighten her mood, but after a whole day without his reassuring smile, Brennan found herself full of nagging doubts, too new was everything, too fragile felt it still.

A knock interrupted her musings, and, lifting her head, she found Angela lingering in the door frame.

"Ange, come in."

"You're still mad at me?" the artist asked, guilt on her face.

Brennan shook her head.

"Not really. After all, we had a good time."

"You did?"

Angela stepped into the office.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

Brennan shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Booth is so very private about some things."

"So, something happened between the two of you?"

Holding her breath, Angela took a seat, regarding her best friend.

"Yes. Take a look."

Reaching out her hand, Brennan handed a photo to her best friend, and the breath wooshed out of Angela's lungs. It was a snapshot of Booth and Brennan arm in arm. He was smiling into the camera, but her own gaze was focused on him, her face full of affection, brighter than Angela had ever seen it.

"Sweetie, this is beautiful."

"I know. Analyzing my emotions, I come to the conclusion that I have loved him that day."

"Where has it been?"

"Lisbon."

"I understand. Everything is easier under the Southern sun, isn't it?"

"That sounds impossible but correct."

"You slept with him?"

A deep breath.

"Yes."

"And now you don't know how to deal with it?"

Brennan shrugged, a grin playing around her lips.

"We did it again."

"Here? In D.C.?" Angela screamed, and a happy nod was her answer. "Oh, Brenn, that is good. It is good, isn't it?"

"If you're referring to the sex, yes, that's very good," Brennan smirked. "As for the rest," her voice wasn't more than a whisper, "I'm almost afraid to say it, but it's even better."

"Sweetie, I'm so happy! So, what is your problem?"

Unable to put her insecurities into words, Brennan gestured at the photo, and her best friend understood.

"You wonder if you love him for real?"

Nodding in relief, Brennan lifted her arms in a gesture of helplessness.

"Yes. I mean, there were different circumstances in Europe, it was just him and me. Here, everything can be so complicated. When I'm in his arms, there are no doubts. But we work together. We are friends."

Taking another glance at the picture that was physical evidence of a bond she had always guessed, Angela held the photo in front of her face for Brennan to look at it.

"Sweetie, look at your face. Look at him. This is love and it is real. You don't love someone just because of a special place. I mean," rolling her eyes, "it is something I would totally do, but not you, Brenn. Once _you_ do something, you do it with everything you have. You're in this with all your heart. Here and there. You love him, and he loves you as well. You know that, right?"

Brennan nodded and couldn't hide her bliss.

"I know, he has told me."

Another squeal.

"He has?"

"Yes. Booth is... very affectionate, Ange."

"Oh, I have no doubts. Brenn, you're a very lucky woman."

"I really think so."

"Scared?"

"Awfully."

Getting up, Angela rounded the desk to hug her best friend.

"That is good. The scarier, the better. Big things like love have to be messy and complicated. You cannot control it, you just have to ride the wave."

Burying her nose in her friend's hair, another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"Angela, I love him."

"I know. Does he?"

"I will tell Booth."

"What will you tell me?"

Both women jumped apart, as the male voice cut into their privacy, and Brennan's face lit up like Christmas, as she found her partner standing in the entrance of her office.

"Booth!"

"Hey Bab... Bones," he hurried to correct himself, and a deep flush covered his cheeks at the slip of his tongue. Angela did a miserable job hiding her smug grin, but to his relief Brennan didn't look annoyed.

"I'm as good as gone," Angela stated, as she sashayed out of the room, but before she left for real, she poked his chest with her forefinger. "Just to be clear, Sweetie, you totally owe us."

Bowing his head, Booth fidgeted, cockiness gone.

"Maybe," he admitted, but it was enough for the artist to leave them alone.

He hadn't fully recovered, when Brennan was next to him, wrapping her arms tentatively around his waist.

"Hi Babe," he dared to whisper, and she snuggled her head into his chest.

Her attachment revived his courage, and he pulled her into his arms.

"You've missed me?" he teased, but for once she wasn't willing to accept the challenge, as she sought and found strength in his arms.

"Yes," she simply said.

Her honesty sent shivers down his spine, and cockiness abandoned him one more time. Placing a tender kiss on top of her head, he murmured,

"Yeah, me too."

"You wanna come over tonight?" she asked, lifting her head to find his eyes.

"Yes," he answered on a whisper. "You wanna cook again?"

"No, I'm too lazy. Take-out?"

"Works for me. Chinese?"

"Thai?"

"Okay. I'll be there with the food eightish."

"Sounds great."

Voices in the hallway reminded them that they weren't alone, and reluctantly she stepped out of his embrace. He blew a kiss into the air.

"See you later."

A smile was his answer.

"Bye, Booth."

-BONES-

It was half past seven, and Brennan was standing in front of her open closet. She had already showered, but her face was bare of make-up, her hair open. He had appeared to like it like this in Europe, and a smile tugged at her lips as she remembered their conversation about a million little things. Maybe he had been right. All she knew was that she wanted to make him happy.

Browsing the content of her closet, her eyes finally zoomed in on one garment, and she removed the piece of clothing almost reverently. 'It seems right somehow,' she thought, as her fingers played with the flower-printed fabric of her holiday dress, and when she pulled it over her head, the dress was a perfect fit.

The rational part of her reminded her that it should be like this, after all, she had bought it only two weeks ago, but there was more than just the perfect way in which it hugged her body. Stepping in front of her big mirror, Brennan looked at her reflection in awe. Suddenly she was a woman who would wear a dress like this. Because of him, it was all because of him or for him. The difference didn't really matter, though, because she felt good in her dress.

She was in love, and the woman in the mirror was surrounded by a glow of happiness. 'This is what it looks like,' Brennan mused, as she took in herself. It was still the Temperance she knew, only... wiser? The word felt oddly right, and she accepted it.

A knock brought her back to reality, and her steps were cheery, as she walked towards the door.

"Hi," she smiled, but she choked on her words, as his eyes turned to a darker shade of brown.

"You're wearing the dress," he stated, and his voice was so intense that she felt vulnerable somehow.

"Yes. You mind?"

Looking down at herself in sudden shyness, she smoothed some non-existing wrinkles with her palm, and so she missed how he dropped the bag with their meal. The next thing she realized was that she was being lifted, and a squeal left her lips. Then she was looking down on him, her feet dangling in the air.

Bringing her hands to his face, she caressed his smooth cheeks, unable to read his gaze, unsure what his behavior meant.

Truth be told, neither did he know, but the moment he had seen her in the dress he had chosen, Booth had found himself in a whirlwind that was their life. Sun, laughter, the ocean, passion, love, shared meals, her head on his shoulder, her stubbornness when it came to guns – everything she was, everything they had accumulated in one perfect moment, one little gesture, resulting in the deepest love he had ever felt for a woman.

He needed to have her, right here right now. Without lowering her to the ground, he walked in the direction of her table, and suddenly Brennan found herself on the hard surface, her dress ridden up, his face between her legs.

With no time to adjust, the sensations just ran her down, and she cried out as she felt his tongue flickering over her most private parts, as his mouth was sucking her feverishly. Fire was ignited, and her body was ablaze in less than a second. Her legs widened on their own volition, and he spread them even further, as he devoured her with lips and hands and tongue.

She had never been that wet, never that aroused – not even for him – and her neglected nipples pressed painfully into the fabric of her dress, as her lap was vibrating with energy.

"Oh, Bones," he moaned against her flesh, his tongue plunging into her, and his voice was her downfall, as she came hard and fast under his mouth. Her vision went black, but through the rushing sound of her own blood she heard the metallic noise of his belt buckle, followed by a zipper.

Then her panties were tucked aside anew, and he entered her. Defenseless against the sensations, she whimpered, and her numb legs opened even wider to give him better access. Despite the frenzy of the moment, he was moving tenderly and carefully inside of her, his mouth whispering words of love between soft kisses.

'Oh my God,' she thought, as she could feel another climax building, way too fast, way too intense.

Clinging to his body for dear life, she unleashed her emotions, and suddenly she was filled with dazzling light.

"I love you," she whispered, her words as soft as his strokes, and she could hear his gasp. A gasp that turned into a sob, as he lost it, as he was thrusting into her with full force, as he was lifting her upper body from the table, wrapping himself completely around her, but never stopping his strokes, never interrupting their connection.

She could feel dampness that wasn't sweat hitting her neck, and, her mouth next to his ear, she repeated her words over and over again.

"I love you, Booth."

He screamed in sweet agony, and then he almost crushed her with the force of his embrace, as his seed shot into her womb, sending her over the edge as well. Locking her ankles behind his back, she let her inner muscles squeeze him in a rhythm that was neither stoppable nor controllable.

It was the rhythm of life, the rhythm of love. As old as men and women themselves.

-BONES-

Dinner was cold when they finally remembered to eat, and, staring onto his plate, Booth felt somehow embarrassed about his behavior. Brennan on the other hand looked nothing but satisfied, but he had to be sure. Grazing her arm, he tried to get her attention.

"I feel the need to apologize."

She forgot to chew, as she looked at him in astonishment.

"Why?"

"Well, the dress overwhelmed me somehow..."

Giving him a smile, she managed to swallow.

"If this is the result, Booth, feel free to be overwhelmed as often as you like."

He chuckled.

"You really love me?"

Nodding, she dug into her rice.

"I'm positive."

"How?"

"A million little things?"

"A million little things... Honey, you are amazing."

"That is common knowledge, Booth."

"That's my girl," he smiled, leaning in for a curry-flavored kiss.

"Sounds correct," she agreed, and once more he was lost for words.

This woman was the most self-assured, stubborn and beautiful person he had ever met. But the most important thing: She was his.

And life was good. Life was very, very good.

They had completed the puzzle.

To be continued...

_I believe our sentimental journey is almost over. Sadness. However, I think I owe you a fluffy epilogue. I'm really reluctant to finish this story, as difficult as the second chapter had been, I truly enjoyed traveling with them._


	9. Epilogue

IX. Epilogue

November went older, as the quilt that was their relationship was sewed. A bottle of his aftershave moved into her bathroom. One stitch. Mix-colored peppers found a home in his fridge. Another stitch. The dizziness that overwhelmed him when she showed one of her bank statements to him. The snappy comment he managed to bite back. One more stitch.

The first fight, when she thought that everything was falling apart. His fierce embrace later which told her that it wasn't. A patch.

The sound of her fingers flying over the keyboard when she was working in the other room and he was watching a game on TV. Brightly colored yarn. The scent of her bath salt, the slippery satin of her skin when he was lolling in the tub with her. A different color.

The warmth of her body at night, the sleepy scent of her in the morning. The weekend stubble on his face which felt so rough when she grazed it with her lips. A grocery list that was the prospect of a shared Sunday: fluffy cotton wool that filled their quilt, made it soft and cozy.

Reality had caught up with them, but side by side they were facing it, forming it into their dream. Work was work, and their partnership hadn't changed, hadn't gotten less successful or more dangerous. Still, his protectiveness annoyed her beyond belief. Still, her squinty talk was a secret turn-on. Still, he refused to give her a gun.

However, when they went home at the end of the day, when he came to her or she to him – _where_ didn't really matter because when they were together, it was _home_ – the partners were left behind, making place for the lovers.

December came, bringing along the cold. Freezing degrees that made her eyes even paler, her cheeks even rosier. Winter scent that lingered in his hair, lingered in his coat when he hugged her in the evening. December deepened, and here and there the first traces of Christmas could be found.

Cinnamon on his lips, the scent of cookies in the air, the lingering sound of bells and Christmas carols in the streets. And then, one ordinary Wednesday afternoon, the sky opened and instead of rain white fluffiness was dancing in the air. Leaving his meeting with a lame excuse, Booth called her to tell her about the first snow, and, the cell phone pressed to her ear, Brennan watched the snowflakes falling down as his voice was caressing her.

She couldn't stop smiling. She couldn't stop telling him how much she loved him. She couldn't get enough of him saying just the same. She couldn't get enough of his kisses. She couldn't get enough of _him_.

Fortunately he seemed to feel just the same about her.

-BONES-

Then it was Christmas.

To his utter surprise Brennan had offered to accompany him to the midnight mess, and he was just a little bit nervous when she was sitting next to him in the candle-lit church, wearing her black coat, looking nothing but elegant. Every now and then her forehead furrowed in disapproval, but she didn't say anything, and when it was time to sing, he could even hear her clear voice.

The sound of bells followed them when they left the church after the Holy Mess, stepping into the dark, cold city night, and she linked arms with him while walking to his car. Booth was filled with utter peace because for once in his life Christmas was like it should be. Full of gratitude, full of love.

They drove home in silence, and in his apartment, their tree greeted them with bright holiday lights. It was a snapshot in time which he wanted to remember forever. They had one more silent night together, and in the morning he would pick up Parker, in the afternoon her father would come over. Booth was looking forward to spending time with his and her family which was slowly becoming _their_ family, but right now he was more than happy to be alone with Brennan for a few more hours.

Approaching her, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, and she leaned back into his embrace, as they watched their tree.

For most of her life Christmas had been the essence of her darkest fear, reminding her of loneliness and abandonment. Until she had met him. His perception of Christmas had changed hers as well, and tonight she could feel it again. The joy, the hope, the love.

"Are you happy?" he finally asked, and she nodded slowly, her silky hair brushing his face.

"Very."

Turning around in his arms, she found his chocolate-brown eyes looking at her full of warmth, and – as always – her heart clenched. Lifting her head, she offered him her lips for a kiss, and then his soft mouth was caressing her, his raspy tongue was seeking hers, his palms roamed over her back.

Even though she'd lost count of their kisses over the last weeks, the sensation hadn't gotten ordinary – only more familiar.

When he was breaking the kiss, her whole body was tingling, her belly filled with sweet longing. In her former life, she'd have taken what she yearned for without further delay, but with Booth Brennan had learned to appreciate the slow kind of passion. Although – a wicked smile curved her lips at the memory – steamy minutes out of control against his wall, on her table or on the kitchen counter had their very own charm.

Making love didn't mean that it always had to be slow and tender because with him it could never be less than making love. And whenever she found his marks on her the morning after, they were proof of love as well.

However, tonight it was Christmas, and if there had ever been a silent night, it was now. Following him to his couch, she admired the strength he emanated, the determination in his steps. Seeley Booth was a big man, but there were moments – when he placed his head on her chest at night, when she cradled him in her arms – so very precious moments, when he allowed himself to be small, almost fragile in her embrace.

She loved him for that.

In front of the couch, he pulled her into his arms anew, swaying her in the soft light of their tree.

"Honey," he said, and his voice was as rich as the scent of fir needles in the air, "I know that technically it isn't Christmas morning, yet, but if it's okay, I'd like to give you your first present right now."

Her face lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"It's after midnight, I'm sure that has to count."

He released her with a kiss, and while he was rummaging around in his bedroom, Brennan fetched her purse to get her present for him. He came back just after she had taken a seat on the couch, a little something in his hands, twisting it almost nervously before sitting down as well.

"Okay, Bones, before you open this, I'd like to say a few things."

Her eyebrows raised, but she didn't interrupt him.

"Baby, you know that I love you like a fool, and you'd probably freak out if you open that without fair warning. Okay, here's the deal."

He took a deep breath, but her smile encouraged him to go on.

"It's a ring."

Her eyes widened in panic, as her cheeks turned to a whiter shade of pale.

"Booth-"

Raising his hand, he stopped her.

"Temperance, I know you, and I know what you think about marriage. I'm not asking you to be my wife."

Some of the color came back into her face, but, still, she looked shell-shocked.

"You're wearing your mother's ring because it means something. I want you to wear mine as well. Just because I love you, and it means something," he whispered.

She just looked at him silently, and Booth broke out in a cold sweat, as he awaited her verdict. Eventually, she inhaled deeply and took the little box out of his hand. The gift wrap was crumpled; he had probably done it by himself, and the realization touched her. Her fingers were shaking somehow, as she opened the lid, and then a simple silver ring with a big, blue stone was dazzling her. It was beautiful, and she had to swallow against the lump in her throat.

Never before had she worn a man's ring, but it didn't take her more than one heartbeat to know that from now on she would forever wear his one. Lifting her gaze, she banished his anxiety with three simple words.

"I love it."

"You do?"

Sliding the ring on her middle finger, she spread her phalanges to enjoy the view.

"With all my heart."

A blink later she was in his arms, his lips grazing her ear.

"It reminded me of your eyes," he whispered, and when she peeked over his shoulder, she could see her own hand on his back, the new ring sparkling in the Christmas light. It was a perfect fit.

Freeing herself out of his arms, she grabbed her present and gave it to him.

"I have something for you as well."

"Yeah, a present!" he exclaimed, ripping open the paper with the impatience of a child.

"A book?"

Now she had to laugh at the dumb expression on his face.

"Not just a book. Open it."

Open it he did, and his breath faltered, as he saw his own smiling face.

"A photo album," he whispered almost reverently. "You've made me a photo album."

He found the Venetian lagoon, the curve of Santa Maria della Salute in the misty light, the gray of the Seine. His mind traveled back to the cobblestones of Lisbon, to the beach of Ericeira, and once more he looked at the Long Room of Dublin's Trinity College in awe. Her faint sunburn was there, and love was there. He found it in his eyes, he found it on her face, and he found it in the little shells and dried flowers she had added to the pages as well.

Love was in his kiss, as he lowered his lips to her, love was in every touch, every moan. The Christmas tree was their only witness, as they undressed each other, and when her alabaster white body was moving on top of him, when they were as intimately connected as possible, the ring never left its place on her hand.

It never would for the next thirty, forty, fifty years.

Together they had traveled a lot; from the dark, metaphorical place where people hurt each other over the sunny islands of friendship to the very real cites of Europe. They had seen rainbows, they had seen rain. They had crossed borders, explored foreign territory. However, the most beautiful of all places they had found deep inside of themselves.

Happy ground.

The End.

_Sigh. Thanks for traveling with me._


End file.
